


flames create us

by lsdme



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Canon Typical Violence, M/M, based in the Sword of Truth world (or legend of the seeker if you watched the show), derek has a beard and magic, you don't need to know anything about SoT to get this though
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-21
Updated: 2013-02-21
Packaged: 2017-11-30 00:21:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 32,733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/693207
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lsdme/pseuds/lsdme
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles lives his life apart from the world. He was born with the power to destroy everything, rule anybody. It was a power no male was ever supposed to have. Stiles is a male Confessor.</p>
            </blockquote>





	flames create us

**Author's Note:**

> based off the Sword of Truth book series. 
> 
> beta'd by secondstar

“You must never tell anyone what you are,” his mother whispered as she held him close. “Think of me as your mother and nothing more; if asked for your lineage, give only your father’s name. Do you understand me?” 

He nodded, tears in his eyes. This wasn’t the first time they had been over this, but something had changed in her tone this time, something permanent.

“No,” she spoke again, urgency filling her voice. “I need to hear you say it.”

“Yes, mother. I understand. I won’t forget,” he was whispering too, clutching onto his mother, the only person he had ever touched.

She stood up, looking him in the eye. “I’m sorry,” she said, turning towards the door.

He reached out, his hand trailing along the hem of her dress as she passed him. He swallowed hard before pushing himself back into the corner where no one would see him. She turned to make sure he was out of sight before opening the door.

“Mother Confessor,” a voice yelled as she stepped out into the sunlight.

It was the last time Stiles saw her.

______________________

Stiles didn’t think he grasped time. What it meant or how it moved, how a day could turn into a year, or how one month turning into the next was supposed to mean something to him. Was it marking something? Was it waiting for him to catch up? One day seemed so similar to the next. Today was a day. Tomorrow would be another day. It’s cold one, it’s hot the next. He moved, alone in the world, the days bleeding into nights, but then Stiles never understood nights either.

He looked up at the sun in the sky, it told him there were about two hours of sunlight left for that day. Night would fall, and then darkness would cover the land. Stiles would either sleep, or keep walking, it didn’t matter. He moved apart from the world, just skirting the line of being an outsider. Sometimes he would stay in one place for a while, two or three months, a couple weeks, before moving on. Not letting himself get too close, too comfortable. Not letting the people there get to know him too well, keeping them at arms length. He always looked though, watching for signs of trouble, signs of recognition on the faces he passed. Occasionally Stiles would circle back through a village, a homestead here or there, the rare few gaining what little trust he had to give.

The McCall’s were among them, welcoming but not pushy, Stiles liked them. Out of the six years that Stiles spent on the road, a year of that was spent with them. Not all at once, of course, Stiles could never stay for that long. But coming and going, it equalled a year of his life. It was as close as he ever let anyone get, including himself, since his mother’s death.

It had been the better part of nine months, the seasons marking the time, since he last was there. His visits had been more frequent, regular almost, until...

_“Where’d you grown up?” Scott asked, his face flushed from the wine and the fire. They were in the main room, his wife asleep in one room, his mother in the next._

_Stiles shrugged slowly, letting the warmth of the fireplace and the pelt he was using as a blanket comfort him. “Aydindril” he said, not thinking. The moment the words were out of his mouth he froze, his breath catching in his throat._ No, _he screamed in his head._ No, not now. _Aydindril was the capital, the home to the confessors and their power._

_Scott looked at him, nodding, his head drooping as sleep tried to claim him. “Did you know them?” he asked, his question slurring._

_“Who?” Stiles whispered, suddenly wide awake and terrified._

_“The Confessors,” Scott mumbled, his eyes closing._

_He couldn’t speak, could hardly breathe. When he knew Scott was asleep he slipped out of the house unheard, covering his tracks as he went._ You’re too close, _he told himself._ They’re too close.

It was the first time since he left the capital, since his mother’s death, that someone had spoken directly to him about the Confessors. He had heard whispers about them, as people always did and always would do:

“She touched him and his mind was gone, all he wanted was to please her. Do her bidding.”

“He asked for her to touch him even though he was innocent, wanted to clear his name so his wife would have a chance.”

“I’d rather die than let a confessor put their hands on me. Can’t trust that they won’t let go of their power.”

But he stayed away, removing himself from conversations that lead that way. Oftentimes he would leave the village completely if he heard even the slight murmur about confessors.

He moved alone.

*******************************

_A cry broke through the forest, unearthly and sad. Derek ran towards it, branches and thorns moving out of the way for him, his magic clearing a path as he went. He was drenched in sweat, willing himself to move faster, but he just couldn’t do it. His body wasn’t allowing him to go any quicker. Magic couldn’t do everything. He learned that long ago, the scars covering his back and chest proof of that._

_Derek didn’t know how they got separated, he had been right there, right there, and then a force threw him back, hurtling into the forest. It was like a bomb had gone off, the shockwave carrying him, the magic in it mixing with his own._

_He heard the cry again and knew he was close. ”Stiles!” he yelled, knowing what he needed to do. “Look at me!”_

Derek shot awake, his chest heaving, tears in his eyes. His hands were shaking as he reached for the waterskin on the ground next to him. He had never experienced a dream so vivid before, but even now he could sense it fading into the background, seeping back into the crevices in his mind. He could only remember the feel, the heat pulsating around him. It was both warm and terrifying, but he felt at home in it. There was a name in there, slipping away from him that he tried to grasp ahold of, but it too skittered away, like it wasn’t ready to be found yet.

He held his hand out in front of him and blinked against the light when a small flame appeared in the palm of his hand, taking him out of the complete darkness he was surrounded by. Derek’s eyes searched the small room he stayed in in the back of his teacher’s house. He felt confined, too closed in and he couldn’t breathe.

His teacher, Zedd, had been helping him to learn and control his magic, helping him to conquer the headaches that can come with the insurgence of power. He had done so much for Derek, more than anyone else ever had, but deep down Derek knew he had to leave. Something told him that it was his time.

It took no time at all to transfer the small flame he was holding onto a candle, and then pack up his belongings as silently as possible. He scribbled out a note and left it on his bed, it read nothing more than “I’m sorry. I was called away.” Derek knew no other way to explain why he was leaving, and in the middle of the night at that, something, or someone, _was_ calling him. Someone he wanted to answer.

With one look back at his room, he stepped out through his open window and ran off into the woods.

For two days he traveled South, the sun was just rising when he felt the draw, looking East he knew that was the way he needed to go. Derek moved slower now towards the rising sun, the light growing all around him.

A low snarl from behind caught his attention, stopping him dead in his tracks; he had heard a growl like that before. He turned slowly, his eyes narrow, searching the treeline. Two steps back and he was hidden within a bush, he closed his eyes as he absently scratched his cheek. He had stopped shaving when he left Zedd’s and was now grateful for the short beard to help hide the contrast of his skin against the forest.

When it came into view Derek consciously held his breath, but could do nothing to hide the hammering in his chest. The wolf stepped in front of him, walking slowly, and as big as a horse. “Do you smell something?” a woman’s voice rang out.

Derek tensed all over, when he saw her face wounds long since healed stood out in his mind, burning all over his body like they were fresh. Old scars feeling pink and new.

She stepped up next to the wolf, running her hand up its flank, the red leather of her outfit stood out in stark relief against the grey-brown of the wolf. It was Kate, one of the Mord-Sith. “What is it?” she asked the wolf again, eyes scanning the wood.

______________________

_“What is it?” Kate asked, her eyes falling onto Derek’s face. A smile crept onto her mouth, curving her upper lip into almost a snarl. “Do you not like my Agiel?” she said to him, running the rod she held in her hands down the center of Derek’s chest, a straight line from the base of his throat to his navel. Derek screamed, his shoulders tight above him as he sank forward in pain._

_One touch from the Agiel would have a grown man on his knees. Kate had been torturing him with hers for weeks._

_It had been a few days after his fifteenth birthday when the magic finally awoke in him. He saw Kate walk into his village. In a flash of bravery he made a flower appear for her, already having some control over his ability. Derek held the flower out in his hand but she ignored him, walking by as if he hadn’t even existed. He exhaled, disappointed, and the flower disappeared._

_Suddenly she stopped, her braid whipping around her face as she spun towards him. “Well, what do we have here?” Her eyes were wide. “You just did a very rare thing.”_

_Derek didn’t know how he had made the flower disappear, he didn’t understand yet that the ability to both make things appear and disappear, additive and subtractive, magic was nearly unheard of. He didn’t know._

_He stared her, confused but happy about her attention._

_“Will you meet me tonight?” she asked, smiling at him. “On the edge of town?”_

_“Yes,” he answered, in awe that this woman was interested. “Of course.”_

_She turned and left, continuing her journey into town. Derek watched her go, not noticing the red leather that swung into view as her cloak moved around her._

_That night he was leaning up against a tree, lost in his thoughts when it happened. A sharp burning pain, searing into his chest. He cried out, eyes flying open to find the woman he was waiting for standing before him, her face hard._

_“You have a gift, boy,” she said, moving her Agiel away from his chest. She had only been holding it there lightly but it felt as if it was tearing into him._

_Derek turned to run, making it but a handful of steps before he felt the Agiel contact with the back of his left leg, bringing him to his knees._

_“You’re going to be fun,” she whispered, before slapping the rod against his face._

_When Derek woke up he was tied up in a room, shirt off, he could see blood dripping down his chest and could feel the slide of it on his back._

_“I’m Kate,” the woman said, using her finger to lift his chin. “You’re mine now,” she said, before jamming the Agiel into his ribs._

_That was how it had started. In the weeks and months since she had tortured him, starved him, and mated him. She referred to him as her pet, stroking her hand through his hair and down his chest. “And I can treat my pet however I want.”_

_It was late one night when Derek finally broke free. Something about the room, or maybe just his weakness and inexperience, had dampened his magic. He fought to remember who he was. He awoke with a start, and could feel it bubbling up inside of him. Derek visualized cradling it, the magic, the warmth in his chest, awakening again. Using all the strength he could muster he pushed himself up from the floor, blood and sweat sticking to him, and pulled the door open. The lock dissolving in his hand._

_He made it two miles away before he was brought to his knees by such a pounding in his head that he had never felt before. When came to again he was in a bed, clean and covered in a blanket._

_“Looks like you’ve had quite the time,” an older man said from beside him, seated in a chair across the room. “I’m Zedd.”_

_Derek rolled his head to the side to see him. He looked about the age of his grandfather, there was something about him that calmed Derek. He knew he was safe there._

______________________

Derek wasn’t safe, he knew it was only a matter of time before Kate or the wolf became aware of his position. He backed away slowly, using the smallest amount of magic he could to help hide his movements. When he could no longer see them he turned and ran, full speed, hopping over roots and vines. He ran for what felt like an hour. At a spring ahead of him he stopped to refill his waterskin as fast as possible, also splashing some water on his neck and face.

He scanned the area again before rising to his feet. Derek’s movements were slower than before, but he moved at a deliberate pace. It was enough for his heartrate to come back down, for his muscles to finally relax a bit. When he moved into a clearing he heard it again, a howl off in the distance. Without another thought he took off running toward the other side of the clearing where a bank of wayward pines sat like guards of the forest. He sped up, sliding onto the ground and up underneath one.

It took him half a second to realize there was somebody there, laying on the ground with his eyes closed, not asleep though, Derek could tell that much.

“Hi,” Derek said, as he crawled back against the trunk. “Sorry, I’m just....” he started to explained but trailed off because he needed to concentrate. Bringing both of his hands up in front of him he splayed his fingers out, in his mind he envisioned them to be branches on a tree. He jerked his fingers out and the base of the tree grew, the branches thickened and connected, nothing would find him there.

Derek closed his eyes and relaxed back, exhaling hard. “Sorry about that,” Derek said, smiling at the boy next to him, trying to put him at ease. He couldn’t be more than four years younger than himself. He looked strong though, strong of mind as well as body. “I was being chased by a particularly vicious dog, though I’m not entirely sure it wasn’t a wolf, and needed somewhere to hide,” he told him, half lies to fill in the truth. 

“So you chose under a tree? on the ground?” the boy said, his voice incredulous. Something in there, the lilt of the vowel, or the question at the end, slowly began turning a key in Derek’s mind.

“Well... yeah, but,” Derek paused to wiggle his fingers, like that explained everything. “It’s fortified.”

“Wizard?” the boy asked. Derek could see he was working hard at keeping calm, like the proximity of the two of them, mere inches apart, was making him itch.

Derek nodded at him. “And you’re,” he said, looking at him, but he stopped. He didn’t know what he was. More than human. It was like a heat enveloping him when their eyes met, unfamiliar but not completely alien to him. Somewhere in his mind he knew he had felt something like this before, but it seemed like a dream to him.

“Stiles!” the boy added, a little too enthusiastically. “I’m Stiles. Hi.”

Derek watched him as he scooted up to sit and promptly slid as far away from him as possible. “Derek,” he said, introducing himself. “I’m Derek Hale.”

“Well Derek Hale. Nice to meet you,” Stiles said, as he stood, crouching underneath the low hanging limbs. “I’m going to go now.” But he didn’t move any further.

Derek felt frozen in place. Stiles was looking at him like he’d never seen anything like him before, which was exactly how Derek felt. Stiles eyes darted around but always came back to Derek, with this need in them like he wanted to stay, to sit down and not move. But then he’d pull himself back and away. He was fighting with himself and Derek could see it all there as it played across his features.

“I’ll just...” Stiles whispered, scooping up his pack and practically darting for the limbs.

Derek panicked, what if Kate and the wolf were still out there? What if something happened to Stiles? Derek wasn’t sure why he cared so much and so suddenly, but he knew he needed to protect Stiles.

“Wait!” Derek yelled, letting himself do what he had wanted to do since he had took his first real look at Stiles minutes earlier. He reached forward and clasped his hand around Stiles’ wrist. “Wait.”

There was something about Stiles. Deep inside his genetic makeup that made Derek curious. He wanted to pick him apart and find out what it was; what he was hiding so far away from everyone else. Maybe if he was older, more experienced, he would have been able to recognize Stiles for what he was, but he couldn’t. He just knew there was something there, hidden back in the corner of his mind, locked behind a door, that Stiles kept just for himself.

Their skin touching felt like lightening surging through his body, he couldn’t move. But Stiles could, he tore out of Derek’s grasp and crouched back on his haunches, one hand on the ground, like an animal waiting to pounce at the first sign of danger. Derek realized he needed to speak.

“Sorry, I just... the wolf...out there. Didn’t want you to get hurt.”

Stiles just looked at him, his breathing quick.

“I should leave,” Derek mumbled to himself. “The magic, it makes some people uneasy.”

“No,” Stiles whispered, his voice an odd texture. “It’s not that. I like... I like the magic. Just.. I’m not used to being touched.”

Derek slid back down to the found, letting his arm fall. “We’ll just wait it out a little longer then, okay?”

“Okay,” Stiles breathed out.

Derek couldn’t stop looking at him. When he realized they were just sitting there staring at each other Derek smiled, ducking his head. “So,” he said. “Tell me about yourself.”

“Me?” Stiles squeaked, eyes guarded again.

********************************

_“Me? I’ve known him since I was a young girl,” she told him. “I think I was about your age. My mother said that I saw him and knew he was to be my Wizard; I believe he knew he was to be mine as well.”_

_Stiles sat in his mother’s lap, his head on her shoulder as he listened to her patiently answer all his questions. All confessors had a wizard who traveled with them, kept them safe from harm. Stiles had never met his mother’s wizard, only knew of him from what she had said. But he knew about Stiles. She couldn’t hide the pregnancy from him - he was the one person on earth who knew who Stiles was, the male son of a confessor, the forbidden._

_“Can I meet him?” Stiles asked, angling his head up to look at her._

_She shook her head. “No, my child.”_

_Silence fell._

_“I have to keep you safe,” she whispered to herself. “If they knew....”_

_“What about me?” Stiles interrupted “Will I ever get a Wizard?”_

_She closed her eyes, terrified of what was to happen. He could only truly get a wizard if someone knew what he was, knew he was a confessor, and if that happened..... She had to teach him first to control it. Understand what he is, who he is._

_“I hope,” she began to say. “I hope one day you find yours.”_

Stiles woke up to his mother’s voice ringing in his ears, _I hope one day you find yours._ He didn’t recall that memory, had been too young, but somewhere in the deep recesses of his brain it sprang forward as if waiting for the right time to make itself known.

He shook off the feeling he got whenever he dreamt about his mother, which had been becoming more and more frequent as of late. He slept in his clothes, out underneath a wayward pine in the forest. Alone. Always alone. Stiles dug through his pack, pulling out a dried piece of meat and a bit of fruit to eat for breakfast, enjoying the silence around him, eyes closed.

“Hi,” someone said, a man’s voice breaking the silence, sliding underneath the tree and up against the trunk. “Sorry, I’m just....” but he trailed off as he brought his hands up so they were in front of him. He flexed his fingers and suddenly the amount of limbs at the bottom of the tree doubled, hiding them completely from view.

Stiles laid there, stock still, eyes wide, staring straight at this stranger who had settled about two inches from where Stiles was resting. Too close. But there was something. This hum that bounced off of Stiles’ side and settled in between them.

“Sorry about that,” the man relaxed, smiling a bit down at Stiles. “I was being chased by a particularly vicious dog, though I’m not entirely sure it wasn’t a wolf, and needed somewhere to hide.”

“So you chose under a tree? on the ground?” Stiles said to him.

“Well... yeah, but,” he said, pausing to wiggle his fingers so Stiles could see. “It’s fortified.”

“Wizard?” Stiles asked, even though he knew he was. Magic wasn’t a secret in the Midlands, but it also wasn’t every day you ran into someone with the ability. It was becoming more and more rare as the years passed.

The man nodded. “And you’re,” he said, looking at Stiles, their eyes catching before Stiles could avert them. Stiles could feel his heartbeat rising, he tried to control his breathing. The man’s brow furrowed, his head tilted as he looked at him, his eyes searching Stiles from head to foot. The silence was deafening.

“Stiles!” Stiles added, a little too enthusiastically. “I’m Stiles. Hi.”

He scooted back, sitting up to face him from a couple feet away. “Derek,” the man said, his voice quiet, still questioning what he saw in Stiles. “I’m Derek Hale.”

“Well Derek Hale. Nice to meet you,” Stiles said, as he stood, crouching underneath the low hanging limbs. “I’m going to go now.”

He needed to leave, and as soon as possible. It had been two years since the last wizard Stiles had encountered. The magic had felt like something decaying to him, it scared him and he ran. Derek’s magic felt warm, like it was drawing him in, wanting him to stay. And that terrified him more than anything.

“I’ll just...” Stiles told him, picking up his pack quickly and moving to push the pines out of the way.

“Wait!” Derek yelled, reaching forward and grabbing Stiles around the wrist to stop him. “Wait.”

It felt like someone had electrocuted him. The first skin on skin contact Stiles had felt since the day he said goodbye to his mother. And it burned through him, like a handprint searing itself onto the bones in his wrist. Stiles yanked his arm back, crouching to face Derek like he was ready to pounce at the first sight of danger.

Derek was frozen facing him, his arm still in the air from where it had been holding onto Stiles a moment ago. “Sorry, I just... the wolf. Didn’t want you to get hurt.”

Stiles couldn’t think. He just nodded and willed his muscles to relax.

“I should leave,” Derek mumbled to himself. “The magic, it makes some people uneasy.”

“No,” Stiles whispered, his voice sounding far off even to himself. “It’s not that. I like... I like the magic. Just.. I’m not used to being touched.”

Derek’s eyes were appraising as he sat back down. “We’ll just wait it out a little longer than, okay?”

“Okay,” Stiles breathed out.

______________________

_“Okay?” she asked, her voice hard. “Now hold onto it, visualize it in your mind, push until it’s almost out of your grasp, but don’t let go.”_

_Stiles took a deep breath, he could feel his power vibrating beneath the surface of his skin. He and his mother had been working on control exercises all morning. The confessors power does not work on another confessor, so they could only do this together. He let it fill him, like he had opened a door in his mind and the power came flooding out like spring water. He felt it, visualized it in his hands, dancing at the tip of his fingers, and then tried to pull it back._

_He tried._

_His body shaking as he tried to reverse the flow, but he couldn’t do it. His power spilled forward, touching his mother and dissipating._

_She slowly shook her head. “Again.”_

_It was another week before he managed to do it._

_His mother smiled at him, ruffling his hair as she led them over to the bench to rest._

_“Did you have to do this as a child?” he asked, wiping the sweat from his brow._

_“No,” she told him. “It is only you.”_

_“Why?”_

_“You are male. The ability to control the touch is more difficult for your sex. It is why you are the onl... why you are hidden._

_“That is always your answer: you are male,” Stiles said, patience running out with his exhaustion. “What does that mean?”_

_“We’ve been over this,” she told him, her voice raising._

_“Then tell me again! Why am I the ‘only one’? Why am I hidden?” he asked, pleading._

_“They will kill you, Stiles.” she nearly yelled. “I know you’ve read the histories. Male confessors, their power was too great, they lacked control, sought out power by any means. They nearly took over all the lands. So it was ordained that there would never be another male confessor. If one was born, the one who bore him would use her power to touch the father, using his sudden and absolute devotion to have him kill the child. Don’t you see?”_

_Stiles stared her. She very rarely raised her voice to him. “Why didn’t you use the touch on my father?” Stiles asked, his voice small._

_Her breath was ragged as she answered. “I couldn’t do that to him.” She paused, “or to you” sitting back and squaring her shoulders. “You mustn’t ask me about your father again. It would ruin any chance for you to....” she trailed off before changing the subject. “You have to master control if there is any hope.”_

_“Hope in what?” he asked, still too young to know everything of the world._

_“Hope that you’ll find your wizard one day.”_

______________________

“Stiles,” Derek’s whispered voice broke through his fog of sleep. “Wake up.”

When he opened his eyes Derek was kneeling next to him, about as close as you can get without touching.

They had sat underneath the safety of the tree for hours, talking about this or that, followed by silence whenever subjects moved too close to home. Stiles could see it on Derek’s face when he wanted to know more, wanted to ask more, but Stiles would back away, shut back down. Derek looked relaxed to him, his eyes never getting that caged look Stiles knew would cover his sometimes. But he could tell he was on edge. But neither of them moved. Never left. They stayed, sitting still, as far away as possible from each other, but still within the confines of the tree.

Stiles stirred, coming awake, rubbing his face along his sleeve where his head was resting on his arm before opening his eyes. His eyes stared up at Derek, silent, waiting, scared to disturb anything around them.

“I fell asleep,” he croaked, his throat dry.

Derek handed him a water skin, moving his hand back before their fingers would have a chance to touch. Stiles appreciated the gesture, unsure for the first time in years as to why a hint of disappointed seeped its way into his mind. 

“Thanks,” Stiles said, pushing himself to sit. Derek watched him drink, his eyes searching for an answer.

“You’re more than human,” Derek whispered, accidentally speaking the words out loud.

Stiles’ nostrils flared, his body tensed. Derek’s eyes widened like he was trying to backtrack, turn back time. 

“Sorry! I’m not going to ask, you don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to. You’re just....” Derek trailed off, he was leaning in closer to Stiles now, not moving with any sort of intent, it was just as if his body wanted him closer. He blinked at Stiles seemingly unaware that he was moving.

“We should get going,” Stiles whispered, blindly handing the water skin back to Derek.

Derek cleared his throat, pushing up to a higher crouch, almost standing. “Let me just get this.” He moved his hands in almost the same fashion as earlier, taking away all the branches he made appear earlier, when he opened his eyes they were gone, the tree back to how it was before his arrival. Stiles was looking at him, mouth hanging open.

“You have both?!” Stiles asked, surprise in his voice. He had never even heard of anyone in this century with both ends of magic. Not even when he was still with his mother in Aydindril and had access to the comings and goings of all magical folk.

“Additive and Subtractive Magics? Yeah,” Derek said, dipping his head. “I have both.”

It was rare, beyond rare, to be born with both. Stiles could tell that Derek knew that. It gave him power to be able to control both sides of it, like flipping a coin and always winning.

There was a hint of a smile on Stiles face. Stiles could feel it creeping forward as if it wanted to make itself known, let Derek know it saw him. Everything was there before him, his past, his present, his future. His mother’s words spilled forward, _‘I hope one day you find yours’,_ rang in his ears until the decision was practically made for him. Derek was special, maybe he was Stiles’ equivalent.

“So,” Stiles said, “Where are we going?”

Derek smiled at him, bright and happy. He shrugged. “Were you headed anywhere in particular?”

“I was planning on buying some supplies in the next town,” Stiles told him, dropping his pack across his shoulder. “It’s about a day east of here.”

“I like east,” Derek said, pushing back out into the openness of the treeline.

“ _I like east_?” Stiles laughed, mumbling “wizards” under his breath, feeling more comfortable with someone than he had in a long time. Derek just shrugged at him and shouldered his pack.

“Lead the way,” Derek said, holding the limbs back and motioning with his hand for Stiles to come out from underneath the tree.

Stiles hesitated for a moment, knowing that this was going to be the start of it. He was letting Derek in, a practical stranger, but it felt right. It was time. Maybe this was what all those days and nights had been leading towards. Why time never felt quite right to him - seemed meaningless and slow - it had been just biding its time until this moment.

Time started the minute Stiles pushed out into the field and felt Derek fall into step beside him.

It was easy.

Each step they took was a beat of their hearts or a tick of the clock, they were both moving toward something now. Stiles wasn’t certain, but he felt like Derek could sense it too, like they were more than two strangers who met under a wayward pine.

They kept to the woods, moving along paths until around midday they found the stream that would lead straight to the village.

Both kneeled by the water, filling their waterskins and splashing water onto their faces. As Derek rolled up his sleeves a long scar became visible on his forearm.

“What happened?” Stiles asked, nodding towards the line on his arm.

Derek hesitated, his eyes locked on Stiles like he was trying to make a life or death decision. He dropped down so that he was seated and motioned for Stiles to do the same. They were close to each other again, and Stiles realized that all morning they hadn’t been more than a foot apart from one another. They were drawn together.

“It was about eight years ago,” Derek began. “I was captured. It was right after my powers started to make themselves known; I didn’t know anything...nobody like that had ever come through our village before.”

“Like what?” Stiles asked, eyes flitting back and forth between Derek’s face and his arm.

“Mord-Sith.”

Stiles inhaled sharply, his entire body tense. Stiles knew a girl, her mother had been Mord-Sith and had planned to raise her in that lifestyle, but she rebelled, left all that behind and married Scott. He knew though, he’d heard tales of what they can do to a person. If a wizard directly used their magic against them they could harness it and use it to kill that wizard. The twelve inch rod they held in their hands, which caused them pain at all times, could cause even more damage when they set out to use it on a person. Stiles wanted to reach out and touch Derek, to cover the scar on his arm with his hand and comfort him. But he couldn’t, it wasn’t natural for him like it was for everybody else. He missed touch, affection, he never even touched Scott and he knew him better than anybody.

But Derek, he wanted to feel.

He didn’t though. Not yet. He wouldn’t use his power - he’d never do that to Derek or to anybody - he had worked on control all those years with his mother and he had it. He knew he couldn’t get too close though, and wanting to put his hands on Derek was too close.

“Stiles?” Derek said, his head inclined towards him.

“Sorry, I just...Mord-Sith... you don’t hear of many people escaping them. How did you? You couldn’t have been that old. Are there other scars?” Stiles abruptly cut off before grimacing. “Just ignore me, that was out of line, I’m sorry.”

Derek was shaking his head. “No it’s fine. I got lucky, managed to get out early one morning. I was 15 when she took me, 16 when I escaped. And yes, there are scars,” he finished, pressing a hand to his own chest, covering the scars hidden by his clothing.

Stiles felt thunderstruck. He nodded, whispering a quiet thank you. Derek gave him a tired smile. “That was in the past though,” he said, pushing to his feet. “I don’t look back if I can’t help it, time moves forward and so do I.”

“Time,” Stiles mumbled, smiling to himself as he thought about how senseless it always seemed. “We should probably get going.”

“Come on,” Derek said, putting his hand out to help Stiles up.

Stiles nodded as he slipped his hand into Derek’s, feeling the pull as Derek helped raise him to his feet. It was a few seconds before Stiles realized at all what he had done. He flinched but didn’t move away. His eyes focused on the way their hands fit together, the feel of another person’s hand in his. It felt warm and safe.

“Stiles,” Derek whispered, his thumb moving along the back of Stiles’ hand.

Their eyes met, his eyes wide with surprise. “You...” Stiles trailed off, shivering as he slipped his hand out of Derek’s. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

Night was beginning to fall as the village finally came into view. Stiles decided that he would walk to the market and Derek would go ahead to the other side and make camp for them. He could have the fire already going when Stiles got back with the food. Derek offered to go, or to come with him, but Stiles knew what he needed and exactly where to go because he had been through this particular town a few times before.

The village was quiet as Stiles walked to the shop. It didn’t take him long to buy some dried meats, a bit of fruit, and nuts. He thought about buying some raw meat to cook over the fire, but decided he or Derek could catch something if they wanted that.

“Stilinski!” someone shouted off to the side. Stiles froze in front of the shop on his way out. His mother’s words _‘if asked for your lineage, give only your father’s name,’_ rang out in his mind. He went by Stiles, rarely telling anyone the name Stilinski. He had never met his father, but could he be there? Stilinski wasn’t exactly a common name. But how...

“What is it?” an older man answered, stepping out of the shop behind Stiles.

“We’ve got a fight over at the Turner place, thought the Sheriff might be able to help calm ‘em down.”

“Let me get my badge,” Stilinski said, when he moved he accidentally bumped into Stiles, who was still paralyzed by what he was hearing, all sense of self-preservation apparently gone.

“Excuse me, son,” the Sheriff said, moving around Stiles.

Stiles and the Sheriff moved at the exact same time, bumping into each other. Stiles hopped back, eyes averted. “Sorry,” he rushed out, walking backwards.

“It’s okay,” he said, his eyes on Stiles.

Everything seemed frozen, floating around them, stuck. Neither of them moving. Stiles didn’t want to look at him, couldn’t, but he could feel the Sheriff’s eyes taking him in.

The Sheriff breathed out hard suddenly, like someone had punched him in the gut, Stiles could feel his eyes on him. “You look like... a memory.”

It was too much to resist. Stiles glanced up at him, their eyes meeting. “A memory of years ago,” Stiles said, still trying to fade into the distance.

They stared in silence. Stiles could see his features there staring back at him. It was his father, there was no doubt in his mind. His heart felt like it was trying to beat out of his chest. If he realized who Stiles was there was a chance he’d try and kill him. Male Confessors were not to be. Stiles prayed he didn’t connect all the dots.

“You,” his dad said, his voice stronger. “You can’t exist!”

Stiles flinched. The dots had been connected.

“You cannot exist,” he whispered more vehemently at Stiles. He sounded scared and worried.

“I....,” Stiles trailed off. “Sorry.”

And then he was running. He could hear yelling from behind him, but payed no mind to it. His eyes blurred with tears as he tore through the edge of the village and into the woods. Stiles looked behind him into the darkened village behind him, his father was there. His father. The ground dipped down suddenly causing Stiles to lose balance and pitch forward. His shoulder slammed into the ground with a distinct pop filling the air. Stiles gasped, clutching it.

He needed to get up, and get out of there. Leave the area and never come back. Suddenly Stiles remembered that Derek was waiting for him out there. He was somewhere safe and warm, the fire going, away from this town and everyone that might want him dead.

Slowly he rose to his feet and began walking towards where they had decided to meet.

He felt numb all over when he walked, there was a rustling next to him and then suddenly Derek was there and crowding into his space. “Are you okay? What happened to you?” he asked, hands hovering just over Stiles’ arms and neck, constantly moving.

“I fell,” Stiles told him, his voice distant even to his own ears.

“I could feel... I don’t know what I felt. You,” Derek finally put his hands on him. Stiles gasped, his eyes finally focusing on Derek’s face.

“My arm,” he said, shouldering out of Derek’s touch.

Derek stood there looking at him, worry creasing his brow. “Come on, I made camp not too far from here.”

The walk back was hazy at best. Stiles could feel Derek next to him, a hand on the small of his back helping to guide him in the right direction, but he still felt lost, barely in control.

_Control._

“No,” Stiles groaned, using everything to step out of Derek’s grasp. “Not enough control.”

“What?” Derek asked, staying close.

“My control, not enough,” Stiles mumbled. “Stop touching me.”

“You’re not making any sense,” Derek told him as he sat down next to the fire.

Stiles shook his head. “Just let me rest. I can feel it. It’s too close. Don’t want to hurt you...”

Derek backed off, letting Stiles slump down across from him on the other side of the fire. Stiles closed his eyes, breathing deeply. He visualized the river, the stream of power in his mind. It needed to be closed away, shut and locked behind the door he kept it in. When he opened his eyes again he felt calmer, everything looked clearer.

He glanced up at the moon, high in the sky. Night had only just fallen when he ran out of the village. It must have taken hours for him to get his power under control. It hadn’t taken that long in years.

“Stiles?” Derek voice cracked with exhaustion. “How are you feeling?”

“My shoulder hurts like hell,” Stiles admitted, rolling it in its socket.

“Would you permit me to fix it?” Derek asked, his tone unsure.

Stiles nodded, not trusting his voice.

Derek shifted over to him, up onto his knees next to the affected arm. “Could you take your shirt off? This might be easier that way.”

Silently Stiles shifted his jacket off, struggled, but managed to get his other shirts off as well. He’d never felt so exposed before, this close to Derek in the firelight. His shoulder was bruised and swollen, ugly.

“Can I touch you?” Derek asked, all questions tonight, Stiles could tell he was trying not to startle him. His hands already hovering over the skin. Stiles can feel the heat radiating off of them. Heat and magic.

Stiles eyed him. 

“Stiles please.”

He nodded and Derek’s hands were on him, gently touching his arm. After a few minutes he asked, “Do you want to tell me what happened to you tonight?”

Stiles swallowed hard, trying to concentrate through the buzz of Derek’s magic sewing him back together, through the softness of skin on skin.

“My father,” Stiles finally managed to say. “I saw my father.”

Derek ran one of his hands across the back of Stiles’ shoulder, the magic pushing into him. “Has it been a long time since you last saw him?”

“Never,” Stiles whispered. “I’ve never seen him before.”

“Then how did you know it was him?” Derek asked, his eyes fixed on Stiles’ arm.

“We both just knew. I think he recognized my mother in me. He recognized me,” Stiles breathed out. He felt wetness on his cheek and realized he was crying.”He recognized me.”

Derek finished what he was doing and picked up Stiles’ jacket, placing it over his naked shoulders. “Could you go back and find him?”

Stiles shook his head. “No, he doesn’t...He said I shouldn’t even...,” he trailed off, scared to say the rest. It was a phrase he had been frightened of hearing all his life. Always running, always afraid that someone would see him for what he was and know he shouldn’t be alive. He glanced at Derek finally, concern and sadness clouding his face. There was something there that made Stiles trust him, more than anybody he’s ever met, more than his mother. It was something that made him never want to leave Derek’s side again.

“He said I shouldn’t exist,” Stiles told him, his voice weak. But what scared Stiles more was that he didn’t know how his father could exist. If he truly was his father, his mother’s power should have taken him when they conceived. Stiles began shaking.

When Derek hugged him he had never felt more scared in his entire life, nor as safe. Derek held on through the hitch in his body, through the tension as it was released from his muscles, he held on while Stiles laid his head onto his shoulder and let himself feel the years of loneliness and isolation wash away.

Derek was his wizard. He knew that now for certain. Derek was his wizard, and he was Derek’s Confessor. Stiles had never told anyone what he was, but he knew if Derek asked again he couldn’t lie.

He wanted to tell Derek the truth, tell him everything, show him everything, give him _everything_ he had and wanted the same in return.

His mother never taught him about love or desire, never told him the day might come when he would want to be consumed by another person, filled up by them to the brim, the natural equivalent of his power without the darkness to it. Never told him.

******************************

Derek woke up as the sun rose, streams of light making their way through the thickness of the trees. He looked over at Stiles asleep next to him, all the guards down while he was sleeping. One day, it had taken one day for Derek to fall. He knew his place was there with Stiles. And maybe it should have scared him, but it just made him feel stronger, more in control of his own life.

What Stiles was remained a mystery though. As he healed him the night before, Derek could sense the power within him. It was ancient, as old as anything Derek had ever experienced. It was like the answer was on the tip of his tongue, the truth of it was right there, he just couldn’t grab a hold of it.

“Stop watching me sleep,” Stiles said, his face still plastered to the arm he was using as a pillow.

Derek laughed beside him. “Then stop sleeping.”

They weren’t touching anymore. After Stiles had let Derek hug him, hold him, until the worst of it was over and the pain of familial rejection had subsided, he had laid down and gone to sleep. Derek stayed awake most of the night wondering what kind of life he had lived. He knew one thing for sure though, it had been a life of loneliness and isolation. Derek wanted to make sure Stiles never felt that way again.

“I know you didn’t go back to sleep,” Derek said a while later while eating a bit of fruit. “You can stop pretending.”

“It’s not pretending; I’m _resting_ , Derek,” Stiles told him, opening his eyes to look at him. “There’s a difference.”

“Semantics,” Derek said as he stretched his arms up above his head.

Stiles rolled his eyes and sat up, running a hand through his hair. Derek smiled at him and handed over some of the fruit and nuts he had been eating. He purposely let his fingers touch Stiles’ hand. Stiles tensed a little, but didn’t push away. That meant progress in Derek’s book. He wanted to break the shell Stiles had built around himself, pressing cracks into it with his own fingertips.

“There’s a homestead about two miles from here,” Stiles said. “My friend Scott and his wife live there. I thought we might stop there for a couple days.”

Derek felt a pang of jealousy go through him at the word “friend;” that people had gotten to know Stiles before he did, but he swallowed it down and nodded. “Anywhere is fine.”

Stiles looked at him with unease, biting the corner of his lip. “I need to tell you about Scott’s wife first, where she comes from. I won’t let you walk into there not knowing.”

“If they’re your friends, it’s okay, you don’t need to explain anything to me,” Derek said, and meaning it. He would follow Stiles anywhere.

“No,” Stiles shook his head. “I need you to know. I’m not going to let this blindside you.”

Derek licked his lips, the seriousness of what Stiles wanted to tell him was right there from the look on his face. Stiles took his silence as acceptance and kept talking.

“Her mother was a Mord-Sith.”

Derek inhaled sharply, his eyes widening. It made sense now why Stiles had been so adamant about telling him.

He continued, “Her name is Allison. Her mother wanted to raise her into it, but Allison met Scott when they were young and she rebelled, leaving her family behind. She’s not a Mord-Sith, Derek. I want you to know that she’s never... she’s never used her Agiel on a person like Kate used it on you. But she does have one.”

It had been years since Derek had willingly entered the company of a Mord-Sith, and while Allison wasn’t one, she had been groomed to be one. It scared him that the impulse would still be there, that Allison would somehow trap him. But he also trusted Stiles and knew that he wouldn’t ask him to do something he was uncomfortable with.

“Are you okay to go there?” Stiles asked, his hand was hovering over Derek’s thigh, not touching, but wanting. Derek could see the want.

“Yes,” Derek answered. “I’m good.”

“You sure?” Stiles asked again, making sure.

Derek smiled at him, “Yeah. I’m sure.”

“Let’s get going then,” Stiles said, smiling and pushing himself up to stand. He stretched his arms up over his head, leaning side to side. Derek’s eyes caught on the skin there at his hips, hidden and then revealed with each movement. Stiles had a faint blush on his neck when Derek’s gaze finally met his.

He wanted so badly to grab Stiles, pull him down into his lap and stay there for a few more hours. He wanted to know everything about him, be filled with him, consumed. Derek knew he would follow him anywhere, devote his life to Stiles if he asked.

When Derek stood up, so close to Stiles he would only have to lean in a little to be touching him, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Stiles stood in front of him, his lips slightly parted. Derek thought he saw Stiles’ hand twitch, like it wanted to grab ahold of him, but then Stiles was moving away; the spell broken.

After that it didn’t take long to arrive at Scott’s. On the way Stiles told him about his time there, how they were the closest thing to friends he had, but it had been a while since he had been back. He didn’t give Derek a reason for that.

They didn’t rush there, but they moved efficiently through the woods, and if Derek began touching Stiles here and there, nobody else was around to see. They’d laugh, and Derek would clasp him on the shoulder; he’d want to get his attention, and touch Stiles on the back. It was all so innocent, yet it meant so much that Stiles was letting him do this.

He could see the walls breaking down with each graze of his hand. A quiet smile playing on Stiles’ lips had replaced the panic in his eyes every time Derek got too near to him. Stiles never initiated the touch though, never put his hands on Derek.

When the house came into view it looked comfortable and well looked after. There was a flower garden in front, and Derek could see that the vegetables were planted out back. Chickens, goats, and a horse or two were probably also back there. Derek could see why Stiles kept coming back here, it looked like a home.

Stiles knocked on the front door and waited, Derek standing a step behind him. He would be lying if he said he didn’t feel nervous about going into someone else’s home like this, someone who had been raised into the Mord-Sith lifestyle. Stiles turned his head to look at him and smiled. “Just breathe,” he whispered softly. Derek wanted to laugh, or cry, he didn’t know which. He willed himself to be calmer.

“Stiles?” a man’s voice came from around the side of the house.

Derek turned to see a man about their age round the side of the house, stopping a couple feet from them.

“Hey Scott,” Stiles said, bobbing up and down on the balls of his feet. “Long time, no see.”

Scott rolled his eyes, “Yeah because you disappeared last time.” But there wasn’t any heat in it, it was all easy and friendliness.

Derek stood silently just behind Stiles, with anyone else he would have expected them to hug, old friends reunited, but they just nodded at each other. He realized Stiles really wasn’t exaggerating that he wasn’t used to being touched, he didn’t even touch someone he considered his good friend.

“This is Derek,” Stiles said, motioning to him with his thumb. “Don’t let his eyebrows scare you, they’re all bark and no bite.”

“What’s wrong with them?” Derek asked, his brow furrowing.

Stiles laughed, looking at him fondly. He was almost like a different person here, around Scott. Much more of a boy than the man who always ran, living a life of solitude.

“Ignore him,” Scott said, reaching his hand out to shake Derek’s. “I’m Scott McCall.”

“Derek Hale,” Derek said, trying not to lean into Stiles to reach Scott. He didn’t want to be too familiar with him, not when it was obvious that Stiles didn’t even let Scott touch him.

“Come on, Allison is around back,” Scott said, letting go of Derek’s hand. “She’s my wife,” he added to Derek, beaming.

Derek let Stiles and Scott walk ahead of him to the back of the house, but stayed almost directly behind Stiles, like he was shielding himself in case all his fears about being around another Mord-Sith were justified. He had all his trust in Stiles, who at that moment gave him a tiny smile over the shoulder, reassuring him. Derek touched his back lightly, low enough to where Scott wouldn’t notice the movement. It helped to calm him.

“Your mom still living here?” Stiles asked.

Scott shook his head. “No, she moved into town, remarried, a nice man. I like him well enough.”

“How long ago did they marry?” Stiles asked, he always did like Mrs. McCall.

“‘Bout two months,” Scott told him. “He’s only been here about a year, I think.”

“Stiles, is that you?!” Allison yelled, interrupting their conversation.

Derek dropped his hand immediately, squaring his shoulders, on guard. But when he looked at her she could not have looked less intimidating. She was kneeling in their vegetable garden, hair in a bun, grinning and covered in dirt. He couldn’t help but smile at her.

“Hi Allison,” Stiles yelled back, waving.

“Who’s your friend?” she asked, eyes on Derek.

There was something about them that Derek couldn’t quite place, the line of her brow as she asked the question had such a familiarity to it.

“This is Derek,” Scott told her as he walked over to help her up off the ground.

“Pleased to meet you,” Derek said. “You have a lovely home.”

“Suck up,” Stiles mumbled from beside him, shaking his head.

Allison was laughing as she wiped her hands off on a towel, leading them inside the back door.

“How long are you going to be staying for?” She was motioning for them to all sit down while she grabbed some drinks. Stiles sat down on the bench closest to the wall, Scott across from him. Derek moved to sit beside Stiles, but the angle was off. Instinctively he put his hand on Stiles’ shoulder in order to not trip over the bench to get to his seat. In an instant he saw Scott’s eyes zero in on his hand and Allison’s tinkering around with the drinks stop before they seemed to remember themselves.

“I thought maybe a couple days,” Stiles began speaking, dutifully ignoring the surprise that filled the room. “If that’s okay?”

“Of course it’s okay,” she told him. “You know you’re always welcome here. You too, Derek, any friend of Stiles.”

“Thank you,” Derek said, relaxing further. He was starting to realize there was nothing to worry about.

“How long have you guys known each other?” Scott asked, trying to look nonchalant, but Derek could tell he was suspicious. No. Not suspicion, he was being protective. Wondering why he’d never heard of Derek before if they were close enough to where Stiles was allowing Derek to touch him, to sit so very close to him. 

“Uhmm,” Stiles stalled, scratching the back of his neck. “A couple days?”

“Only days?” Scott asked, eyeing the two of them.

“Yeah, well...,” Stiles trailed off, glancing over at Derek. “It’s been an interesting week.”

“Interesting how?” Scott asked, receiving an elbow jab from Allison as she seated herself next to him.

Stiles had the good grace to look a little embarrassed at where Scott’s mind was going. Derek knew how they must look - he was sitting too close to Stiles, but he couldn’t help it, his body wanted to be near him and Stiles, who was sitting relaxed at his side, didn’t appear to mind.

And then Stiles started talking, and hardly stopped for a breath. He told Scott about where he had been the past couple months, what towns he had traveled by, and anything interesting he had seen. Even Derek could tell he was being careful, not quite telling the entire truth to his friends. The amount of secrets Stiles kept was staggering. When he got to how he had been sleeping underneath a wayward pine when Derek, literally, burst in it was getting closer to evening.

Derek listened as Stiles told them how they ended up at their house, a version very different from the one Derek remembered. It was all fact, they met, hid, walked to the next town, resupplied, and then stopped by to see Scott and Allison. He didn’t tell them anything of his father, being injured, or of Derek’s magic. He didn’t tell them about the comfort between them or the crying the night before. He kept that inside for himself, for himself and Derek. Nobody else needed to know the private things that had occurred between them in two days, strong enough to get them to where they currently were, which was sitting pressed together on one side of the table in the McCall’s kitchen.

“I think I better start dinner,” Allison finally said, standing up and stretching her back. “You want to grab some eggs from the back?” She asked Scott, placing a hand on his shoulder.

“Sure. Why don’t you give me a hand, Stiles. Those chickens are vicious sometimes,” Scott said, jumping up.

Stiles looked at Derek, his eyes questioning whether or not he would be okay alone. Derek nodded imperceptibly letting him know he was good.

Allison smiled at him when the other two were out of the room. “I imagine Stiles told you about me,” she said, bringing over a bowl of green beans to snap.

Derek nodded, a little surprised. “He did.”

“Do you have any diet restrictions because of the magic?” she asked, continuing to snap beans like they were talking about the weather.

Derek’s eyes went wide, he didn’t think she’d be able to tell, he’d hoped that she had stopped her training too young to be able to recognize specific powers within people.

“I’m sorry!” Allison blurted, looking embarrassed. “I just know sometimes wizards don’t want everyone to know, and you don’t really know Scott so I didn’t want to bring it up in front of him in case you were uncomfortable.”

“It’s fine,” Derek said, taking a deep breath. “I appreciate that. I don’t eat meat.” Movement in the backyard caught his eye. Stiles was chasing a chicken around while Scott grabbed a few eggs from the coop.

“You knew what I was from your training,” Derek said, eyes moving back to her. He realized that she might know what Stiles is. If she could identify the blend of both magics inside of him, she had to know what was dwelling inside of Stiles. She knew. She had to know. “You know what Stiles is, don’t you?” Derek asked. Her eyes got wide as she flicked her gaze out into the yard.

“I’d never tell any...Did he tell y--,” she began, but was cut off by the other’s returning, laughing and red faced.

Derek stared at Stiles, happy and smiling, but still keeping his distance. He didn’t know. Stiles had been staying there completely unaware that his secret, whatever it was that made him the way he was, was known by Allison. It was big, it had to be something monumental if Allison sensed it and still didn’t say anything.

Stiles quirked an eyebrow at Derek but didn’t say anything, instead he just sat back down where he was seated before, his leg touching Derek’s.

Dinner went well, with all four of them talking and laughing into the night. They were all seated in the livingroom, Stiles on the floor next to the fire with Derek in a chair next to him. Allison and Scott were sitting on the couch, his arm thrown around her shoulder to hold her close. Scott was telling Derek about how he and Allison had met and fallen in love when they were younger.

“I was obsessed with her,” Scott said, laughing a little. “I’m pretty sure I drove my mom crazy talking about her all the time.”

“I think if I had known you back then you would have driven me crazy too,” Stiles said. “No offense, Allison.”

Allison laughed. “None taken.”

Derek watched Scott and Allison together on the couch, easy touches, relaxing into each other, and he wanted more than anything to reach his hand out and card it through Stiles’ hair just to have some sort of contact with him. His eyes were on Stiles’ profile, idly watching him, spaced out when he realized Scott was still talking.

“...she said I used to come home every day declaring ‘I’m going to marry Allison Argent if it’s the last thing I ever do!’”

Suddenly the air felt like molasses to Derek and he was drowning in it. He looked at Scott, then to Allison, his eyes big and his breathing labored and slow. _Argent_. Derek blinked rapidly, remembering when they first arrived and he thought there was something familiar about Allison. He realized what it was now; a family resemblance.

It felt like everything he’d been hiding from, moving past, came rushing back and there he was frozen in place in front of an Argent. Only this time he was chained solely by his body’s unwillingness to move.

“Your last name is Argent?” Derek all but whispered, eyes not focused on anything in particular, unable to focus.

Stiles sat up onto his knees next to Derek, up in his space, a hair’s breadth away from touching him. “Derek?” he whispered, concern filling his voice.

“What?” Scott asked, almost oblivious to what was happening within Derek.

Derek focused, eyes locking on Allison. “You’re an Argent. Your family.... You’re her sister.”

Allison tensed. Did she know who Derek was? Had Kate boasted about keeping little Derek Hale as a pet in her basement? The boy who didn’t understand how to use his magic?

“Kate,” Allison breathed out, extricating herself from Scott and sitting up on the edge of her seat. “You know her?”

Derek laughed, harsh and devoid of all humor. “You could say that.” 

Stiles’ hand was hovering over his arm where he knew the scar was, unwilling to just touch him, afraid to touch him. Derek hadn’t felt so alone in a long time. The memories of Kate coming back again so close after having just seen her a couple days before, and now Allison. It was too much.

“Derek,” Stiles said again, trying to get him to look at him. “She’s not like her, I swear.”

“What did she do to you?” Allison whispered, sounding afraid of what the answer would be.

Derek didn’t answer at first, instead he stood up and unbuttoned the top few buttons of his shirt. He pulled the fabric to the side revealing a thick scar that curved from below his collarbone to over his heart.

“She took me, kept me, made me her mate, and if I ever get the chance I’ll kill her,” Derek told her.

Allison looked visibly shaken, Scott silent next to her. “I didn’t know,” she breathed out. “I didn’t know.”

Derek nodded and walked out of the room. He needed some air, he needed space, he needed to not be in the room with the sister of the woman who had made his life a living hell for months on end. What if Kate was still in the area? What if she was heading here and saw him there? Derek could hear Stiles inside, his voice raised. Was Stiles yelling about him? It was all too much. This thing, whatever it was that was happening with Stiles, that had been filling him up, and now everything with Allison, it was drowning him. He squatted down onto his haunches, trying to curl into himself.

He could sense Stiles next to him when he got out there.

“Are you okay? Derek. Look at me, please,” Stiles begged. “I didn’t know, I swear to god I didn’t know they were related. Derek.”

Derek started shaking, he couldn’t breathe.

“Derek please,” Stiles whispered, his voice shattered.

That’s when he felt it, a hand warm on the back of his neck, grasping and flexing against the skin there. Stiles was touching him. His head jerked up, eyes meeting Stiles’, inches apart. “There you are,” Stiles said, a little bit of a smile touching his lips. “I thought I’d lost you there.”

Stiles’ thumb was moving slowly, grazing his hairline, the sensitive space behind his ear. It broke Derek down. He crumpled forward, their arms going around each other. This time it was Stiles holding onto him, squeezing him tightly against his body, sheltering him from anything out there that might wish him harm. Derek let himself relax, let his breathing even out while tears fell from his eyes. Years of pain and terror held in by some will to be strong, broken loose by this boy kneeling in front of him, holding him together.

They stayed like that for a while, until both their breathing was quiet, in sync with each other.

“You’re touching me,” Derek finally spoke, his voice wrecked. “You touched me.”

“Something had to be done,” Stiles said, obviously trying to lighten the mood a little. “Scott was probably going to start accusing you of bad-touching me if I didn’t reciprocate soon.” But he was rubbing a hand up and down Derek’s back as he spoke, not making any indication of stopping now that he had started.

“Thank you,” Derek whispered, his forehead resting on Stiles’ shoulder.

“It’s nothing,” Stiles told him, also speaking softly.

Derek raised his head and looked at him. “No, it’s not nothing, Stiles.” He leaned forward, pressing their foreheads together, his hand on the back of Stiles’ neck, shaky breath touching his face. “It’s not nothing.”

The house was dark when they finally walked back inside, the only light coming from the fire slowly burning in the fireplace. Scott and Allison had gone to bed.

“I can sleep out here,” Derek said, motioning to the living room. “You take the bed.”

Stiles rolled his eyes. “Don’t be stupid, Derek. I’m not leaving you alone after that. There’s plenty of room for the two of us in there.”

Derek’s heart was beating loudly in his chest, he wondered if Stiles could hear it. But then, he imagined that Stiles’ was probably doing the same thing.

“Are you sure?” Derek asked. “I know it’s not something you’re used to....”

“Not all the questions again,” Stiles said, cutting him off. And just to prove his point he grabbed Derek’s hand and began pulling him to the other side of the house toward the second bedroom. Derek looked down at their hands as he followed Stiles. His heart feeling lighter than it had in years.

The bed was plenty big for the two of them, Stiles had been right about that. As they stood in the room, both of them removing their shirts and boots, Derek realized there was nowhere he’d rather be. Even if it meant going through everything all over again, it would still lead him here to Stiles, to this room, where everything was safe.

When Derek turned back around Stiles was standing behind him, his eyes had been fixed on Derek’s back, but were now seeing all the scars on his chest for the first time.

Derek breathed in deep. Nobody had seen his scars in years, he kept them hidden from view. But here Stiles was, his eyes open and full, taking them in and accepting what they were. Stiles raised his right hand to touch one before hesitating, unsure if he was allowed. Seeing this, Derek raised his own hand, touching the back of Stiles’ and pressing it against the scar that tore across where his heart was.

“It’s alright,” Derek told him. “I want you to.”

The palm of Stiles’ hand pressed and slid up Derek’s chest, following the thick line of the scar. When he reached its tip, he followed it back down with one finger. Derek felt goosebumps jump up on his skin, a shiver running through his body. Stiles’ other hand began touching one that ran down his opposite side, curving along the line of his hip and disappearing below the band of his pants. Derek stood there silently as he allowed Stiles to touch him anyway he wanted, his eyes never leaving Stiles’ face.

He kept his hands on Derek’s skin, tracing all his scars, even touching the small ones that were almost invisible now. Stiles walked around the back of him, his hand touching the one that was carved into Derek’s forearm on his way by. Derek took a deep breath, his whole shaking slightly. When Stiles pressed both hands to the flat of his back, Derek had to fight the urge to lean back into him. This was the most intimate thing Derek had ever done, and he’d be willing to guess that the same thing stood for Stiles, for Derek could feel a slight tremble in his hands.

“I want to kiss you,” Stiles spoke from behind him, his hands touching scars here and there. “But I’m afraid.”

Derek turned his head, catching Stiles’ eyes as he walked back around in front of him. “What are you afraid of?”

“Losing control,” Stiles confessed, sliding his arms under Derek’s.

His eyes fluttered as he stepped right into Derek’s body when Derek wrapped his own arms around Stiles and pressed them together.

“I trust you,” Derek said to him. “You won’t hurt me, no matter what it is you’re trying to control.”

Stiles’ eyes closed, his face looking pained for a second before opening them again. “You don’t know that.”

“I don’t know what you’re fighting so hard to hide, Stiles,” Derek told him. “But yes, I do know that you won’t hurt me.”

Stiles moved forward, his lips just ghosting over Derek’s. Derek licked his lips, his arms tightened around Stiles. Derek didn’t want to make the move, Stiles needed to cross this barrier on his own terms. He would wait forever if it only meant that Stiles was ready for this.

“I want...,” Stiles began, his mouth slightly open, his pupils wide.

“Yes,” Derek breathed against him, centimeters apart.

“Can you...?” Stiles began to ask, but Derek could hear the end of the question already and was pressing his mouth to Stiles’ before he finished speaking.

Derek kissed him slowly, reverently, like Stiles was something breakable in his hands that he wanted to keep precious. Stiles’ mouth opened, a small gasp escaping before he slid his hands up into Derek’s hair. Derek took advantage of the movement and slid his tongue along Stiles’ bottom lip, wanting nothing more than to feel Stiles’ tongue brush along his.

Slowly, tentatively, it happened. Like Stiles was afraid to let himself feel anything.

“Stiles,” Derek mumbled, his hands grasping the band of Stiles’ pants, using the grip to pull their hips together.

There was a low, quiet noise coming from Stiles’ throat before he opened his mouth fully, their mouths crashing together as they tasted each other. Stiles began walking them backwards toward the bed, one hand still held tight in Derek’s hair. Derek smiled when Stiles turned them around, pressing until Derek came in contact with the bed. He pulled Stiles down on top of him as they went, a chuckle escaping Stiles as they situated themselves.

Derek bit along Stiles’ jaw as he settled on top of him, knees straddling his hips. They were made to do this, their bodies screaming for it. Thrusting his hips up, Stiles let his cant forward, it felt like lightening shooting through him.

Stiles’ eyes shot open, his back arched, and he was scrambling off Derek as fast as he could, shuffling back to the corner of the bed and pressing himself against the wall.

“Stiles?” Derek asked, rolling over up onto his knees to face him. There was blind panic on his face mixing with the flush on his cheeks and the swelling of his lips.

“I need...,” Stiles took a deep breath. “Control. I’m sorry.”

“No,” Derek shook his head, reaching out to touch him but Stiles shook his head vehemently to keep away. “Don’t apologize,” Derek said, dropping his hand on the bed next to Stiles’ foot.

Derek got up and walked over to where there was a pitcher of water and a glass sitting on the table. He filled the glass and drank half of it, bringing the rest to where Stiles was still sitting curled up on the bed, his eyes closed in concentration.

When he opened them Derek saw a slight glow behind them before it shuttered out, whatever it was being locked away again. Stiles accepted the water, downing it in two gulps. He looked sheepishly up at Derek.

“Why don’t we just lie here?” Derek asked, crawling up onto the bed, settling down on top of the blankets.

Stiles set the glass down on the open window sill before sliding down next to Derek, neither of them touching. Derek watched him until his eyes became too heavy and his breathing too slow to keep Stiles in focus any longer. He thought he heard a quiet “thank you” before drifting off to sleep.

When he woke up the next morning he was alone, curled underneath the blankets with the sun on his face. Derek stretched, his body waking up as he shifted around. Through the open window he could hear Stiles and Scott talking, nothing specific, just the tones of their voices floating over to him.

He thought about going out there, seeing them, seeing Allison, knowing now exactly who she is now. He also thought about earlier in the evening when she revealed that she knew whatever it was that Stiles had been hiding and hadn’t told a soul, not even Stiles. There was a truthfulness there, something to be trustworthy about that which he hadn’t seen in a long time.

Derek decided to trust her. He needed to trust her if he was going to continue to live his life not in fear anymore.

Slowly he tugged his shirt back on, slid into his boots, and joined everybody else.

Allison was standing alone in the kitchen when he walked out. Nothing had changed about her though, she was still as non-threatening looking and amiable as yesterday. If he was honest he half expected her to come out with her hair braided, staring at him hard. Instead she smiled lazily at him, looking a little sheepish herself.

“Are we okay?” she asked, pouring him a cup of coffee.

“I think so,” Derek told her, giving her a brief smile. “It was a surprise.”

She turned and looked into the yard where Stiles sat, laughing at something Scott was doing. “He really didn’t know,” she stated. “It’s not something I talk about. I left that life for a reason, Derek. Are,” Allison hesitated, “are you two okay?”

Derek took the coffee, nodding. “Yeah, I think we’re going to be fine.”

Allison started to say something else but was interrupted by a knock at the door. Scott came walking in from the back, greeting Derek on his way to answer it.

“Good morning,” Stiles spoke from the doorway, smiling, hair a little mussed from sleep still.

“Morning,” Derek said, setting his coffee cup down and walking over to him. Allison excused herself, leaving the two alone.

Derek leaned against the wall next to the doorway. “How’d you sleep?” he asked, eyes finding the faint mark on Stiles’ jaw where he bit him last night.

“Pretty great actually,” Stiles told him. He reached out, the back of his hand running along where a hidden scar tore across Derek’s hip. Derek grinned at him, the memory of the night before flooding his mind as Stiles stood there touching what he knew was a personal thing.

“I like your scars,” Stiles admitted, leaning against the doorframe so he was pressed next to Derek. Derek could feel the heat from his body, warmed by the sun against his side. “My mother used to tell me that they helped tell a person’s story; to always see them as the truth of what someone really went through.”

“Stiles,” Derek said, his voice felt thick. He was at a loss, he never expected someone to accept him so easily.

Stiles leaned forward like it was the easiest thing in the world and lightly pressed his lips to Derek’s jaw, unafraid and so open now.

“Thank you,” Derek whispered, running his hand up Stiles’ arm to cup his face.

“Oh come on!” Scott stopped dead in his tracks and threw a hand over his eyes.

Stiles snorted a laugh, Derek didn’t even drop his hand, he just looked at Scott and smiled. “Scott,” Stiles laughed, “If you can’t handle a little....”

“Who was at the door?” Allison asked, clearly interrupting on purpose.

“There wasn’t anybody when I got there; must’ve realized they had the wrong place,” Scott said as he leaned against the sick.

Derek and Stiles exchanged glances. It seemed unlikely that somebody would knock and then walk away. They didn’t say anything though, but Derek though he saw Stiles stand up a little bit straighter, on guard.

“I thought we might walk into town,” Scott suggested. “It looks like it’s going to be a nice day. “

“Walk,” Stiles said, adding a pregnant pause after it, “Into town. Scott, you know I walked here right? Don’t make me go further than your backyard, my poor little legs can’t handle it.”

Derek admired Stiles’ ability to create a false meaning out of the truth, and be so effortlessly sincere about it all when he knew he was hiding the real reason.

Scott rolled his eyes at him. “Fine. Stay here and be lazy.”

“Thank you and I will,” Stiles told him, smiling as he flopped down onto the bench.

“Care to join us, Derek?” Scott asked, in what he was sure was an attempt to lure Stiles along too.

“Sorry,” Derek answered. “Can’t.”

Scott pouted as Allison grabbed his hand. “Let them be.”

Derek smiled at her, glad he chose to trust her. These were good and kind people, Derek knew that.

“Don’t do anything gross,” Scott yelled back at them as the front door closed.

Suddenly peace settled around them. Derek walked out into the back yard, the early afternoon sun shining down on him. He laid down onto the grass and closed his eyes. A few minutes later he felt Stiles next to him, his shirt brushing along Derek’s hand.

“It’s so peaceful here,” Derek said, eyes still closed. “I can see why you like it.”

“I can be myself here, or as much as anyone can be themselves in someone else’s home,” Stiles told him, hooking one of his fingers through Derek’s, holding onto him with the smallest of gestures.

“What are you?” Derek asked, grabbing Stiles’ hand completely. “Why are you so afraid of telling me the truth?”

Stiles rolled onto his side, curling towards Derek. “Because it will ruin everything.”

“I don’t see how that’s possible,” Derek told him, their hands placed together on his stomach.

“It would. Trust me. All people would see me as an,” Stiles paused, swallowing a lump in his throat. “As an abomination.”

Derek flinched, causing Stiles to look up at him suddenly, fear in his eyes like Derek was going to push him away already, like he believed himself that he was an abomination. Instead Derek pulled him closer, glad now that they could touch and be unrestrained with Allison and Scott gone.

“I could never see you that way,” Derek whispered. “Nothing could make me feel that way about you.”

Stiles laid there silent.

“Will I ever find out?” Derek asked. _Find out_ , he had asked, not whether or not Stiles would tell him, he didn’t want to hear Stiles’ answer to that. He knew what it would be. Whatever Stiles was hiding was huge, powerful, something so big that he hadn’t told a soul. Something that would cause death and destruction. Something truthful.

“Probably,” Stiles shrugged, the fear evident in his voice.

“And then?”

“And then everything will change,” Stiles told him. “And then you’ll never want to see me again because we’ll never... We could never... We could never be together.”

“We’re together now,” Derek said, running his hand down Stiles’ back, his hand holding tight to his hip.

Stiles huffed, “that’s not what I meant and you know it. I would destroy you.”

Derek craned his head up to look down at Stiles. “How...?” He began to ask, but Stiles was pushing away and standing up. He looked tired, defeated. Derek didn’t understand what was happening, how someone could be so open and closed at the same time. How he could live hiding something that beat at the very core of him. Derek thought it seemed like what he would be like if he tried to not use and hide his magic from everybody. _Magic._ That was it. That was the missing piece of the puzzle. Stiles had a magic, a certain power in him he was trying to deny, control, and hide from the world. He should have realized it the night before when he thought he saw a faint glow behind Stiles’ eyes.

“Come on inside,” Stiles said, “I’m hungry.”

Scott and Allison arrived back about a little before sunset. Derek had kept everything light, on neutral ground, after he and Stiles had talked during the day. They played games and joked. Derek used his magic to make his beard grow and then recede. It was easy doing nothing with him.

“How was town?” Stiles asked as he pulled on a sweater, one of Derek’s from his pack.

Derek grabbed his hand under the table when he sat back down, the sight of him wearing his clothing made him feel like he was on fire, covered in flames and burning. It was such a little thing, but it meant so much. It meant more that Stiles said he could ever give him.

“Town was, uh, kind of weird actually,” Scott said, sitting down across from them. “People seemed kind of skittish.”

Both Derek and Stiles tensed, they both knew too much of what was out there to think it was a coincidence, not with everything that had happened in the past three days.

“How so?” Derek asked, his hand squeezing Stiles’ tighter.

Allison shrugged, playing it cool. “They all seemed scared; the last time there was a bear in the area they were the same way.”

“Did you stop by to see your mother?” Stiles asked.

“Yeah,” Scott said. “She’s good. Says hi, by the way. Wished she could have seen you.”

“You told her I was here?” Stiles was trying so hard not to breathe too heavily, Derek could sense his body tense beside him, the slight tremor in his arm.

“Of course, you know she loves you,” Scott told him. “Why, should I not have? Stiles, what’s going on, you’ve been acting kind of strange since you got here.”

Derek cursed inwardly, wondering how Stiles was going to weave his way out of this one. He was so tense next to Derek, sitting stiff as a board, taking small breaths, like he couldn’t get enough air.

“Nothing,” Stiles said, cracking an attempt at a smile. “Nothing is going on; It’s just....”

Suddenly a snap and a scream cut through the house. They were all on their feet instantly, all looking around to see if they noticed anything strange.

That’s when they heard it. A voice calling out in the dim light of the setting sun. “Come out, come out, wherever you are.” It was a woman’s voice, sing-song threats filling the air. Derek would have recognized that voice anywhere, it haunted him. Allison’s gaze flew to Derek, panic evident on her face.

“I don’t know what she’s doing here,” Allison’s voice was filled with worry, her eyes wide. “I swear to god we didn’t see her or tell anyone about you being here Derek.”

“I don’t think she’s here for Derek,” Stiles spoke from behind them.

“No,” Derek said, voice firm, stalking out towards the front of the house. “I won’t let her destroy anything else in my life.”

As Derek stalked forward the door swung open, his magic clearing the path for him. He could feel it in his fingertips, the desperate need to use his magic on Kate, kill her with it, but he knew that she could capture him with it and render him useless. So he held on, supported by the three people tearing out of the house behind him, Stiles close to his side.

Kate was leaning against a tree, her red leather Mord-Sith outfit standing out in stark relief against the greens and browns of the forest. She held her Agiel in one hand, and was absentmindedly tapping it against her thigh as she waited. 

Derek moved in front of Stiles in an attempt to block him from view. He was prepared this time to see her, he stayed calm, held his ground. He could feel Stiles behind him.

“Why are you here?” It was Allison talking, yelling out to where Kate was standing.

“You’re not welcome here,” Scott added, coming up to stand beside Derek. He looked more imposing than he had before, like there was a hidden strength within Scott that Derek could never have assumed was there. He looked strong and menacing, someone that Derek was glad was on his side.

“You mean you didn’t miss me, sis?” Kate asked, pouting. “I just wanted to chat.”

“No,” Allison said. “I didn’t. And you can’t just walk in here and expect us to braid each other’s hair and tell stories.”

Kate huffed, “How long has it been since you wore the braid? Was it the day you ran away?”

Allison grabbed Scott’s hand, standing firm. “I didn’t want to turn out like you.”

“Like me?” Kate yelled suddenly. “And what might that be like?”

“Like a murderous bitch,” Stiles said, stepping around Derek, shoulders back, head up. All fear or apprehension gone.

Derek stared wide-eyed at him. He looked like a different person completely. There was this air around him that spoke of power and strength, it was almost regal in a sense.

“Ah, there’s the puppy I was looking for,” Kate said, sickeningly sweet, her mouth curling into a smile.

“Kate, what are you....?” Allison began asking but was cut off by Derek declaring that she couldn’t have Stiles.

“Are you going to talk to your master that way, Derek?” Kate said, turning on him. “There was a time when you wouldn’t so much as breathe until I told you to. I used to love watching you pass out,” she added, a far off look in her eye.

“You can’t have him,” Stiles said firmly, echoing Derek’s words from before.

“Him?” Kate laughed. “Oh honey I’ve had him. It’s you I want.”

“You don’t want me,” Stiles told her, eyes hard as he stared her down.

“Oh I do,” Kate said before whistling. There was a rustling in the trees and then the wolf, the giant wolf that Derek had seen with her days before came bounding up holding something in its jaw. “Please drop that, my sweet,” she said to the wolf.

Out of its mouth they could see that it was a man, torn and bleeding, and covered in dirt. He looked to have at least a few bones broken, ones that Derek could see and probably countless others that he couldn’t. Kate kneeled down, grabbing the chain that was still attached to a metal cuff she had put on his wrist. She threw the end over the nearest branch. In one quick movement she jumped up and grabbed it, so as she reached the ground and man flew up into the air, a scream escaping him as he hung limply from one arm.

Derek looked at him and knew immediately who it was, the resemblance was there just like Stiles had said it was. Stiles froze, his hand gripping Derek tightly. Allison gasped as recognition set in for her and Scott.

Kate smiled at them. “You know this man,” she directed at Stiles. “I bet you would love to hear the things he told me and my Agiel.”

“Don’t,” Stiles warned, vibrating on the spot. Derek didn’t have time to think about what that meant, what any of this meant.

“He told me so much. It was quite illuminating,” Kate said, running her Agiel down the Sheriff’s flank, a line of blood appearing as it passed. “Imagine my surprise when I found out my favourite pet was traveling with that abomination.”

“So like I said,” Kate continued. “It’s you I want.”

“I’d like to see you try,” Stiles said, stepping forward. “Lay a hand on me.”

“I’m not stupid, boy,” Kate spat out. “And I wasn’t lying when i said he told me _everything._ He wasn’t a very fun pet though, didn’t last long.”

It was then that the Sheriff regained consciousness, his eyes going wide, his body jerking. It took only moments for his eyes to fall onto Stiles, immense sadness breathing through all the blood and dirt that was covering his face.

“No,” he cried out. “Please, leave him out of this. Don’t touch him. Kill me! Kill me instead. Please!”

“Please, what?” Kate asked, her mouth grazing his ear.

He choked out a sob. “Please Mistress.”

Kate backed up, shrugged, and then jammed her Agiel into his ear. They watched in horror as his body convulsed for a moment and then went limp. Kate dropped the chain, letting his body crumple into the ground.

Everything that happened next seemed to occur in slow motion and when time caught up with him Derek was laying on his back, blinking his eyes open, alone in the woods.

A cry broke through the forest, unearthly and sad. Derek got to his feet and ran towards it, branches and thorns moving out of the way for him, his magic clearing a path as he went. He was drenched in sweat, willing himself to move faster, but he just couldn’t do it. His body wasn’t allowing him to go any quicker. Magic couldn’t do everything. He learned that long ago, the scars covering his back and chest proof of that.

Derek didn’t know how they got separated, he had been right there, _right there_ , and then a force threw him back, hurtling him into the forest. It was like an explosion had gone off, the shockwave carrying him, the magic in it mixing with his own.

He heard the cry again and knew he was close. Derek rounded a bend of trees and saw him there slowly walking into the village. ”Stiles!” he yelled, trying to get his attention.

“What’s going on?” Scott gasped, running up next to Derek, Allison at his side.

Derek couldn’t look away from Stiles, it was like he had become something else entirely. His hair was moving, like a wind pulsing up from the ground was consuming him. 

“He’s a confessor,” Allison told them, tears in her eyes.

“What?” Scott yelled, turning towards her. “He’s a man.”

“An abomination,” Derek breathed out, remembering Stiles’ words from earlier.

It was then that Stiles turned and looked at them, his eyes black, two lightning bolts painted on his face in mud. Derek’s eyes went wide. It was the Con Dar, the blood rage. It was a path of vengeance and destruction. Stiles could destroy them all like this.

“Derek, he’s a confessor,” Scott was saying in his ear. “What are we going to do?!”

There wasn’t time for that, for planning or orders. Stiles had to be stopped before he made it further into town. He couldn’t die like this, and that was the only way this could end. The town would turn on him, Kate was still in the area somewhere, probably taunting Stiles, leading him out into the open where he had spent his entire life hiding from. Someone had to get through to Stiles and Derek knew it had to be him.

“Stiles!” he yelled again, running full speed at him. He knew what he had to do now. “Look at me!” he bellowed as he launched himself further, through the shield of confessors power that was engulfing Stiles, and wrapped his arms around him.

********************************

“No,” the Sheriff was crying out, it tore at Stiles’ insides, turned him into fire and stone. “Please, leave him out of this. Don’t touch him. Kill me! Kill me instead. Please!”

“Please, what?” Kate asked, her mouth grazing his ear. It made Stiles’ stomach turn.

He choked out a sob. “Please Mistress.”

Kate backed up, shrugged, and then jammed her Agiel into his ear. It felt like someone had punched a hole right through Stiles’ body, a clean break, huge and gaping. _Please Mistress_ , still hung in the air and it made Stiles hurt for his father, and for Derek, knowing this woman had broken him the same way his father had been. Broken and stepped on. They watched in horror as his body convulsed for a moment and then went limp. Kate dropped the chain, letting his body crumple into the ground.

She looked right at Stiles before picking her leg up and resting her heel in the torn flesh of the Sheriff’s back before leaning down to wipe the blood from it off on his clothes.

Everything that happened next seemed to occur in slow motion.

Stiles felt his power bubble up, the door in his mind that he kept the stream behind burst forward, pouring out of everywhere. He screamed, forced up on his toes before he dropped into a crouch, his hand resting in the mud at his feet. He was going to kill Kate. Destroy everything she was just as she had done to him, killing the one connection to a life he could have had right in front of his eyes. He was going to kill Kate for everything she had done to Derek; for taking his youth and twisting it into something ugly. And he was going to kill Kate for bringing death and terror to this quiet place that Scott and Allison had worked so hard at making into a home. The need to avenge for all of their losses was overwhelming.

On impulse he lifted his hand and using the mud drew a lightning bolt coming down each cheek. He looked back up at Kate and smiled, cruel and snarling on his lips. She had the good grace to look worried before she laughed and jumped onto her wolf. In one fluid motion the wolf grabbed the Sheriff’s lifeless body from the ground with its teeth and took off.

Stiles ran as fast as he could toward her, but she had speed on her side, the wolf carrying her through the forest. He cried out as he moved, it wasn’t even a voice that sounded like his own. It sounded like it had come from beyond the veil of death, unearthly and sad. Stiles slowed as the town came into view. He saw the massive paw prints leading there and knew Kate had gone that way. As he stepped out of the treeline he let his power go even further.

He was consumed in flames, blue and bright and everything opposite of how dark he felt. Through the fog laced membranes in his mind he could hear someone calling his name and it made him despair. It was the voice of someone he loved but could never be with. Especially not now, now that Derek would surely know what he was, the abomination he had been raised to believe he was.

He heard it again, closer. “Stiles.... Look at me!” Derek screamed before throwing himself around Stiles. He could feel his power enter Derek, caressing him from the inside out. It was the first time in his entire life his own power had touched somebody. 

It was an accident, Stiles knew that, but the minute his power made contact with Derek his mind began to clear with what he had just done. His power began to fade back on its own, locking itself away in his mind for another day. There were hands on his face as they sunk to the ground, Derek’s eyes locked on his.

_Derek._

He had used his power. He had touched Derek with the Confessor’s power. Stiles couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t do anything. He wanted to die. The only person he had ever truly let close was now destroyed forever, his mind gone, devoted in a way that Stiles never wanted. Derek would never be the same, his life would be to serve Stiles, only ever wanting to make him happy. Who he was and who he is was now gone. Stiles felt a tear slide down his cheek, but Derek’s hand was on his face wiping it away.

“I’m so sorry,” Stiles whispered. “I never wanted this.”

“Of course you didn’t,” Derek said, speaking softly before looking around them towards the town. “But we need to move right now if we don’t want a fight tonight.”

Stiles shook his head. He deserved to die, wanted to die now that Derek was under his control and would follow any order he gave.

“Go without me,” Stiles said, his voice stronger.

“No,” Derek told him, his eyes hard. “I’m not going anywhere without you.”

Stiles cocked his head, his eyes examining Derek. “What did you just say to me?”

“I told you no,” Derek repeated. “Sorry, but there’s no way I’m letting you go down for this, no matter what type of secrets we’ve been keeping.”

“Did you just deny me?” Stiles asked, his mind was reeling. How could Derek deny him anything? He should be unflinchingly devoted right now, his mind gone.

Derek rolled his eyes. “Don’t go all power trippy now that I know you’re a Confessor.”

Stiles felt hot all over, he pushed himself back from Derek as his stomach revolted against him and he threw up. This shouldn’t be possible, none of this was supposed to be possible.

“Derek I touched you,” Stiles croaked out, his mouth sharp from the vomit. “I touched you.”

Derek nodded. “I felt it go through me. Like a warm blanket covering me and giving me shelter. But I was still me after it happened.”

Stiles was shaking his head, he didn’t understand. Allison and Scott were speeding towards them, eyes scanning the town for movement. “You guys, we need to get out of here right now,” Allison ordered, her face hard. “Kate’s in there somewhere, people are probably talking about what’s going on. Now get up.”

There was nothing but the sound of their feet hitting the ground as they ran back to the house.

He had always thought his life would be over if they knew, after the biggest secret he’d ever kept came spilling out of him, but it wasn’t. They all sat down at the table, out of breath and filthy. Stiles glanced down at his own body, his hands caked in dried mud, he could feel it on his face as well. His hands flew up to his cheeks, furiously trying to wipe away the lightning bolts he painted there. From beside him Derek reached out slowly and grabbed one of his wrists, pulling his arm down.

“It’s okay,” Derek said, shaking his head. “You don’t need to do that.”

Stiles looked at the place on his arm where Derek was holding him. He felt like he wanted to throw up again; it was all too much. “You still want to touch me?” Stiles whispered, his voice disbelieving.

“Why didn’t you tell us?” Scott said, breaking the spell Stiles felt like he was under as he looked at where Derek’s hand held onto him. “And you knew?” he added, turning to Allison.

“You knew?!” Stiles asked.

Allison nodded. “My training. I knew the minute I saw you.”

“How come you never said anything?” Stiles asked.

“It wasn’t my place. Scott always talked so warmly about you, and when I finally met you and realized what you were I was scared, yes, but I also knew that you had been a friend to Scott and if you hadn’t hurt him in all this time you weren’t going to hurt me.” Allison was crying when she finished speaking, Scott’s hand rubbing her back. “I’d never met anyone like you before, you seemed so alone.”

Stiles could feel tears in his eyes as he listened to her. “Scott?” he said, his voice cracking.

Scott smiled at him, “You’re still just Stiles to me. But now I know why you’ve never let either of us touch you.”

Something broke inside Stiles then, the tension and the years of never having anyone accept him, not allowing anyone to even get close enough to. With Derek pressed beside him and Scott and Allison in front of him he felt protected, like he finally had a home again, a family.

Stiles felt different on the inside, slowly accepting who he was through those around him accepting him. He wept for his life and feeling love where he thought he never would. Derek wrapped an arm around his shoulder and let him cry. Stiles relaxed into him before remembering exactly what had happened.

“Wait,” he said, pulling back to look Derek in the face. “I touched you. How did...How are you still you?”

He heard Scott gasp, they hadn’t realized it from their position in the woods apparently. “He touched you with his power?” Scott asked, his voice in awe as he looked at Derek.

“I felt it,” Derek spoke, not taking his eyes off of Stiles’. Stiles grabbed his thigh, bracing against what he was feeling. “It couldn’t take me though; I don’t know why. Maybe because I was already devoted. There was nothing left in me for your power to steal.”

“I didn’t know that was possible,” Stiles whispered.

“I think that’s the point,” Allison told them. “I’m not sure it would have gone this way if you knew it was possible. Doubt plays a big part in magic, Stiles, and you Derek. I think if either of you had known it was possible it wouldn’t have worked.”

“That makes sense,” Derek added, his face creased in concentration. “An ounce of foreknowledge would have been enough to contaminate it.”

“But what I don’t understand is why Kate brought the Sheriff here,” Scott said. “How are you connected to him, Stiles?”

“We met day before yesterday,” Stiles said, his voice lacking all emotion. It was a beautiful front; a perfect foil to the tense hand that grasped onto Derek and the tension in his body. “I think he was my father,” he said.

“Your father?” Allison gasped, “but....” Her eyes fell onto Derek. “What do you know about this?”

“Only what Stiles told you. They met yesterday. It did not go well,” Derek told them, leaving out the specifics that he knew.

“Your mother was a Confessor, Stiles, they must have been in love. Absolutely devoted to each other because I’ve talked to that man and he was just like you and me, his mind was fine,” Allison was speaking quicker than Stiles had ever heard her before, like she was working everything out in her head.”

Stiles hadn’t even known that was a possibility until he had touched Derek merely an hour before. She had to have known then, when Stiles was growing up, that it was possible. “Foreknowledge,” Stiles said quietly.

All four lapsed into silence, lost in thought at everything that had occurred that evening. After a while Allison got up and began heating water. Stiles pillowed head head against his arms on the table, his eyes closed, the constant press of Derek’s hand running up and down his back lulling him. He could hear the three of them talking, but couldn’t make out what they were saying. Stiles felt more exhausted than he had in his entire life.

“Come on,” Derek said from beside him a while later, helping him up from the table. Stiles didn’t see Scott and Allison anywhere, but that didn’t mean much as he could hardly keep his eyes open. The only thing getting him to the bedroom was Derek’s arm wrapped around him. Stiles let himself be led away into the room they had shared the night before. Derek sat him gently on the bed before moving off to the corner, pouring water into the basin. He must have started to doze off because the next thing he felt was a warm cloth on his face and Derek’s hand cupping his neck.

“Allison heated up some water so we could get cleaned up,” he whispered, wiping away what was left of the lightning bolts on Stiles’ face.

“I’m sorry,” Stiles murmured, leaning into Derek’s touch, closing his eyes once more.

“There’s no need for that,” Derek spoke quietly, dipping the cloth into the bowl of warm water again before bringing it to Stiles’ hands. “None of this is your fault.”

Stiles nodded as Derek wiped his hands, his nails, removing every trace of the mud that was caked there. Washing away the evening that they had just endured.

“I’m scared,” Stiles whispered, admitting something out loud that he had never told anyone. He never had anyone to tell before.

Derek laid down the rag and climbed into bed next to Stiles. Stiles laid back, scooting up to the head of the bed. Derek felt warm next to him as he put an arm around his stomach and pulled him close. Stiles let himself curl into Derek, his forehead resting against the center of Derek’s chest.

“You don’t need to be scared anymore,” Derek whispered. “I’ve got you.”

Stiles dreamed of his mother that night.

______________________

_Her white dress flowing around her as she moved, her long hair chestnut and glistening in the sunlight. She was all he had ever known. He looked out the window at the people in the street below walking in the mid-afternoon. They were holding packages, holding caps and jackets, holding the hands of children, holding each other._

_He couldn’t look away once he saw them - a couple down the road, arms around each other, laughing, sharing a joke. There was something about them that made his stomach clench as he blinked rapidly trying to keep them in view within the crowd._

_“Stiles,” his mother said from behind him, her voice stern._

_“Huh?” Stiles answered, his head snapping up to look at her._

_“I said your name four times; where’s your head at today?” she asked him, sitting down at the table to eat a bit of fruit._

_“I’m sorry,” Stiles said, stealing another glance at them before joining his mother._

_“What were you looking at?” she asked._

_Stiles debated whether or not to be truthful with her, but he had never lied to his mother before._

_“Will anyone ever love me?” he asked, his voice unsure. “There were people out there, arms around each other. They looked so... happy.”_

_His mother stopped moving, her face pained for a second before schooling her features. “You know what you are,” she told him. “You know the answer to that.”_

_Stiles shrugged. “Do I? If there was only....”_

_“No,” she yelled, slamming her hand down on the table. “There’s no ‘only’ Stiles.”_

_“But I only want to feel something!” Stiles yelled back. He was angry at his mother, angry at his life, angry at himself for feeling this way. Stiles slumped back in his chair. “I just want someone to touch me,” he said, sad and broken. “Will anybody ever touch me?”_

_His mother stared at him, her eyes brimming with tears. “No.”_

______________________

Derek’s arm tightened around him as he let out a contented sigh. Stiles looked up at him to see that he was still sleeping, his breath slow and even. There was a disbelief still clinging to the walls of Stiles’ chest cavity that told him this wasn’t happening. That _this_ was the dream. He slid his arm around Derek’s hips, his hand touching the skin on his back where his shirt had ridden up in the night and he knew this was real. Derek was real. They were real.

His power had gone through Derek and not harmed him, but he didn’t know if it would never harm him or if it was a one-time thing. His body wanted Derek’s, wanted to consume him in ways he hadn’t even considered possible before.

They were possible now.

Impulsively he leaned his head up and kissed the underside of Derek’s jaw, his beard rough against his lips. He ran his cheek along it, feeling the drag against his skin as he moved and kissed Derek’s temple. It was obvious the minute Derek was awake, his arm tightened even harder around Stiles, holding him there, pinning him up against his body.

Derek looked up at him, his eyes falling slowly between Stiles’ eyes and his mouth.

“Morning,” Stiles said before kissing him with everything he had. He felt Derek’s body come alive underneath his, arms and legs pulling closer as their mouths opened. Stiles pressed his tongue against Derek’s. This was so much better than the last time they kissed. There wasn’t the fear that he was letting Derek get too close, or letting himself get too close. It was just them moving with each other, feeling one another.

Derek slid Stiles’ shirt up over his head before turning them so he was on top and tugging off his own. Stiles grinned up at him. Derek had this wide-eyed look, like he never thought this would be possible as he ran his hand down Stiles side, catching at his hip and holding him there. Stiles rolled his hips up against Derek before pulling him back down, their mouths biting. It was hard and angry and full of need. On top of him, Derek ground his hips down against Stiles, both of their erections throbbing at the friction. Stiles held back a moan, he wanted to keep silent, keep this for himself and Derek.

Stiles reached down to undo his pants, his eyes locked on Derek’s face. There was a smile tugging at Derek’s lips, red and swollen, as he mirrored Stiles’ movements. Stiles was shaking as he lifted his hips to slide his pants down a little, Derek pulling himself out of his own clothing.

Leaning forward Stiles kissed Derek’s chest, starting at his heart and moving up along his collarbone. They were thrusting together, their hips moving in a perfect fluid motion. Stiles had never felt anything like this before. Derek touched him and it felt like fire burning through him. He could feel his power dancing on the edge of control, coming closer and closer to releasing as his body reacted to Derek’s touch. Would it hurt him this time? His power would release when he came, he knew it would.

“Derek,” Stiles gasped. “My power... I’m scared it’ll take you this time.”

Derek shook his head as he pulled Stiles’ mouth back to his. “It can’t hurt me, not now.”

Stiles’ body jerked, he was holding on so tightly to everything, scared of what would happen. Derek slowed down above him sensing Stiles’ worry. He rolled them onto their sides, untangling their limbs. Derek looked him in the eye as he grabbed ahold of himself, his hand working in between them. Stiles gasped, understanding what Derek meant for them to do now. When Stiles wrapped a hand around himself, he met Derek’s eyes and refused to look away or stop. He imagined it was Derek touching him; Derek’s hand caressing him.

Derek smiled over at him, his eyes burning right through Stiles. He’d never seen such want before.

“Stiles,” fell from Derek’s lips, low and ragged. “Look at you. I can’t believe you’re real right now.”

Stiles began thrusting into his fist, his breath catching at every intake. 

The sound of their breathing filled the room as they laid next to each other. They weren’t touching, or kissing, but Stiles knew that nothing he had ever done up to this point had been so intimate. He felt himself coming closer to the edge. Derek’s eyelids fluttered, closing momentarily.

“Look at me,” Stiles told him, both of their arms moving furiously.

Derek’s breath caught in his throat when their eyes met again and he was coming, blush creeping up the side of his neck. It was beautiful. Stiles let his eyes follow the line of the blush up his neck, to his cheeks, and when he met Derek’s eyes again he knew it was time to let go.

His stomach muscles tightened as he came, followed almost simultaneously by his power spilling forth. It was more powerful than anything he’d ever felt. He was shaking as he stopped, his hand reaching out to touch Derek’s.

Stiles’ eyes were wide as he looked down at their joined hands. “You’re my wizard, Derek,” he told him. “I’ve found you.”

The house was empty when they finally emerged from their room. They found Scott and Allison sitting in the backyard discussing something in urgent whispers. Stiles didn’t necessarily want to interrupt them, but at the same time he was Stiles after all.

“What’s going on?” he asked, stopping a couple feet from them, holding a hand up to block the sun from his eyes.

Allison smiled up at him before glancing back at Derek who was just walking out of the house. “I think we’re going to go visit my father,” she said. “He might know better than any of us how to deal with Kate.”

“What are you going to tell him?” Derek burst out of the house. “You can’t tell him about Stiles, you know how the world views male confessors.”

Stiles held his hand out for Derek to take, letting it hang in the air until he took it. He pulled Derek closer in an attempt to calm him down.

“I would never tell him about Stiles, Derek,” Allison said. “But if Kate tells anyone, the news will spread like wildfire and we’re going to need all the help we can get.”

“He might be able to help,” Scott added, looking to Stiles.

“How long would you be gone?” Stiles asked.

“We could be back tomorrow night,” Allison said. “I just worry about leaving you unprotected.”

“I won’t be unprotected. I’ve got my wizard,” Stiles said, lifting the arm that he was holding Derek’s hand with.

Derek eyes softened as he looked at him. “I can mask the house completely,” Derek told them. “We’ll be safe.”

An hour later the two of them were packed and ready to go. They were going to tell Allison’s father that Kate had been in the area and killed one of the townsfolk, that Derek had been there and they were afraid she was going to go to extreme measures to get him back. Derek hadn’t been happy about letting Mr. Argent know everything about him, but if it meant keeping Stiles secret then he would do anything. Stiles gave them permission to tell her father about him iif, and only if, news of him had spread already, but only vague facts, such as his existence and that he had been the one Kate was after. He didn’t want an outside to know that he had found a wizard.

“I’ll take down the wards at sunset tomorrow night,” Derek said. “I’m sorry to mask your own home from you, but it’s the only way to make sure we’re undetected while you’re gone.”

“Just keep him safe,” Scott said as he pulled the front door open.

Stiles rolled his eyes at Scott, but couldn’t help and smile at him. He was grateful he still had Scott in his life, losing one more person seemed unbearable. Stiles moved quickly, lightly punching Scott’s shoulder in a way that he’s always wanted to do, but never allowed himself before.

“You don’t need to give the whole ‘if he gets hurt, I’ll kill you’ speech,” Stiles said. But Scott didn’t appear to be listening, he was looking at his shoulder where Stiles had just touched him. He shook his head before throwing his arms around Stiles and pulling him into a hug.

“If you get hurt before I get back I’ll kill you myself,” he said as he held on. Stiles wasn’t sure what to do, he put his arms around Scott and let them both have this. “You’re an idiot,” Scott told him as he back away.

“We should get going,” Allison said as she walked back into the room, stopping to stare at all three of them. “You guys are acting weird.”

“We hugged,” Scott said, his face full of pride.

Stiles laughed, pushing him out the door. “Go!”

“Stay safe,” Allison whispered as she passed by Derek, touching his arm. Derek nodded at her, moving out of the house behind Scott so he could mask them as soon as possible. Stiles smiled at Allison, shrugging a little, “I’m sorry I brought this here,” Stiles said.

“No,” Allison said, “Don’t blame yourself for any of this.”

Stiles nodded, trying to believe her. She peeked out the door to see how far away everyone else was. “I’m glad you have a wizard,” she whispered before squeezing his arm and walking out into the sunlight.

“Me too,” Stiles said to the empty room around him.

A few minutes later Stiles felt this warmth pass over him, a buzzing that settled into his skin and felt like home. He knew it was the spell Derek was casting settling over the property, they would be completely invisible to the outside world now. It was the most free Stiles had felt in a long time, for the first time in his life he didn’t have to think about hiding.

When Derek came back in he had a glow about him, the after effect of the magic. It took Stiles’ breath away.

“That should hold,” Derek said, wiping a bit of sweat from his brow. “What do you want to do now?”

Stiles shrugged as they looked around the empty house. He mentally ran through everything they could do to pass the time. Derek walked past him into the kitchen to get some water. “Hungry?” Stiles asked, turning on his heel to follow him. “I could whip something up?”

“You know how to cook?” Derek asked, smiling at him over his shoulder.

“Nope,” Stiles told him. “But I could try.”

Derek laughed, setting down his glass. “Well I can cook, so why don’t you go out back and grab some vegetables from the garden, and maybe a few eggs and then _I’ll_ whip something up.”

Stiles scoffed. “Why do I have to get the eggs?! Those chickens are vicious, I swear one of those chickens isn’t even a chicken! It’s evil!”

“Fine,” Derek rolled his eyes. “I’ll get the eggs, you get everything else.”

Stiles kissed him on the cheek before heading out the back door into the afternoon sun. Nothing Stiles had ever done was like this before. He was completely relaxed within a home environment, nobody to shield from anything, nothing to hide. It was a glimpse at what his life could have been like if he had been born different.

As they cooked Derek told Stiles about his life up until they met. He explained everything about how he had been taken by Kate and some of the terrible things she had done to him; how he never thought he’d make it out of there alive, and how some days he didn’t even want to live anymore and would pray for death to come and take him. But he had kept hold of who he was and made it out of there and vowed to live his life as he wanted from that point on.

Stiles loved hearing about Zedd, Derek’s teacher. He was eccentric, long grey hair, and pretty much exactly what Stiles thought an old wizard would always look like.

“He took away a little of the pain after he found me in the woods once I escaped from Kate’s,” Derek was telling Stiles. “But he wouldn’t use magic to heal me.”

“Why not?” Stiles asked, not understand why.

“He wanted me to understand that the easiest solution is not always the best solution; that one must practice patience if they’re going to make it in this world,” Derek recited as if he’d asked Zedd the same thing and always got the same answer.

“That makes sense, I guess,” Stiles nodded. “Still would have been nice though to have them just zapped and fixed.”

“True. But then I wouldn’t carry these scars with me and the knowledge that I can survive anything that is laid at my feet,” Derek told him, his voice defiant against nothing but his own memories.

Stiles grabbed his arm for a second, squeezing. “I’m not saying I’m glad you had to go through that, because I’m not,” Stiles paused, making sure Derek was understanding him. “But I wouldn’t want you any other way.”

Derek picked Stiles’ hand up off his arm, turned it over laying a kiss on his palm. “You know I feel the same way about you.”

They were outside lying in the soft grass, the sun shining down on them when Stiles began talking about his mother. He had never told another living soul about her. His chest constricted when he realized it because it felt like a slight on her memory. But Stiles knew she would not have wanted him to talk about her to just anyone. He was a secret himself, after all.

When he finally began speaking he couldn’t really bring himself to stop. He told Derek about her beauty and the white dresses she wore every day.

“She used to tell me that she saw so much of herself in me,” Stiles explained. “Do I look like my father? I’d ask her, just wanting to know that someone else could be out there who I had a connection with.”

Derek nodded in understanding.

“ _Your eyes are his_ , she’d tell me every time,” Stiles said as he glanced over at Derek’s face, his own eyes closed against the sun. “But now he’s gone too.”

“Does anybody know about you?” Derek asked, his brows creased, he sounded sorry for Stiles, that he had to have lived his life like that.

“Her Wizard knew,” Stiles told him, confidently. “He was the only one until now.”

Stiles grabbed Derek’s hand, squeezing it in his own.

“Do you think he’s still alive?” Derek asked, his thumb rubbing along the back of Stiles’ hand.

“I honestly don’t know,” Stiles said. “I fled Aydindril after my mother died, scared of what would happen if they ever found me.”

“So you never met him?” Derek asked, rolling on his side to face Stiles, their hands still holding onto one another.

Stiles shook his head. “Never.”

Stiles closed his eyes and scooted closer to Derek like he was trying to hide in the shadow he cast as he lay on his side. Derek leaned down and kissed his brow, just a soft press of his lips there before they lapsed into silence. Stiles was dozing in and out of sleep when Derek spoke again, whispering against his ear.

“What did you say?” Stiles asked quietly, afraid to disturb the peace around them.

“I dreamt about you,” Derek said.

Stiles smiled. “Just now or last night?”

Derek shook his head. “No, before. The night I left my teacher’s house. A few days before I met you.”

“What?” Stiles whipped his head to the side so that he was nose-to-nose with Derek.

“I didn’t realize it right away,” Derek explained. “And I didn’t even remember about it until this morning. I just remember awaking from a dream and knowing I had to go, that someone had called me in need.”

“But we didn’t even know each other yet,” Stiles breathed out, his eyes wide. “How could you...?”

“I don’t know,” Derek admitted. “I dreamed of running to you, screaming your name and wanting nothing more than for you to be safe.” Derek paused. “I dreamt of last night and the Con Dar.”

“Called you in need,” Stiles whispered, repeating Derek’s words from a few moments before. “I lived my life thinking I would be alone forever. My mother raised me to be alone, never getting close, never allowing anyone inside.”

“I have lived tucked away from the world, Derek,” Stiles continued on. “It was my fate, I think,” his voice cracking. “It was my fate to be alone until you....”

Derek rolled over on top of him, “No, that’s not your fate. Not anymore.”

Their kiss was desperate from the beginning. Stiles used his free arm to slide around Derek’s hips and pull him down the rest of the way, their bodies flush together. Stiles bit at Derek’s bottom lip a little harder than necessary. When Derek groaned Stiles could feel it throughout his whole body. Derek slid a leg in between Stiles’ and pressed him further into the ground. Stiles gasped, his voice catching and breaking.

They could make all the noise they wanted now. Nobody even knew they were there, completely hidden, separated from everyone but each other. Derek sucked down the line of his neck, one hand clawing into the grass next to Stiles’ head; Stiles was holding his other hand still, but Derek had pushed it up until it was above his head in the grass, stretched out and straining. Stiles gasped, hooking a leg around Derek’s thigh. It smelled like summer as he breathed in, hot and bright with Derek pressed against him.

“Derek,” Stiles breathed out, releasing his hand before running his fingers down along Derek’s wrist, sliding up his arm, up over his shoulder and tangling deep into his hair.

“I love the feel of you touching me,” Derek said, raising his head to look at Stiles.

Stiles smiled up at him, his eyes dancing in the sunlight, his cheeks beginning to flush. He couldn’t believe this was happening to him. He had to trust that they were right, that _this_ was right, and he knew everything would be okay.

“I want you,” Stiles said, pulling their mouths together so they were almost touching.

He could see Derek’s eyelids flutter, feel his groin rock against his own in an involuntary movement. “Are you sure?” Derek whispered against his lips.

Stiles’ answer was his kiss. He closed the space between them, his tongue swiping into Derek’s mouth as he rolled them over. Derek was hard underneath him. Both of them groaned when Stiles sat up, straddling him. Rocking his hips forward, Stiles found Derek’s eyes and held him there. “I’m sure,” he said, punctuating it with a roll of his hips, both of them straining against their pants.

Derek sat up quickly, pulling Stiles into another kiss. His hands were on Stiles’ hips for a second before gripping the hem of his shirt and pulling it off over his head. Stiles arched against him when his hand pressed into the center of his back, holding him in place.

They stayed like that for a while, kissing, touching each other where they could, both of their shirts crumpled in the grass beside them. Derek bit lightly at the juncture of Stiles neck and shoulder causing a low grunt to escape from his lips. He slid his hand down the front of Derek’s pants, cupping him through the fabric there. Stiles could feel his own erection on the other side of his hand from where he had been pressed so closely to Derek before adjusting to fit his hand in between them.

“Jesus, Stiles,” Derek gasped as he thrust into Stiles’ palm.

Derek was beautiful underneath him. The flush of his chest making his scars stand out in stark relief to the rest of him. Stiles leaned down to kiss the one that was cut jagged across his heart, his tongue following the rivets. He could feel Derek’s breath stutter in his chest.

“Let’s go inside,” Stiles whispered, laying his ear there where his mouth had just been.

Nothing would stop him now. Stiles followed Derek through the yard, his eyes drinking in the sight of Derek walking in front of him. In the kitchen Derek swiped a bottle of oil off of the counter before taking Stiles’ hand and pulling him into a kiss. Stiles could feel his power bubbling through his veins but instead of frightening him like it had so often before, it empowered him. It was his life to live how he wanted now, not the lonely existence his mother had raised him into.

He grabbed the bottle out of Derek’s hand, could feel the smile of Derek’s lips against his.

“Come on,” Stiles said, his voice rough. “I want you inside of me.” He licked into Derek’s mouth, letting out a gasp as Derek slid his hand down the back of Stiles’ pants.

“I’m going to consume you,” Derek told him, his fingers lightly teasing Stiles’ opening.

“Oh my god,” Stiles groaned and began walking them back to the bedroom, neither willing to relinquish the hold either of them held on one another. 

They stumbled through the house, bumping into furniture, knocking over books as they toed off their shoes. Derek’s eyes never left his as they moved. It wasn’t until they were into the bedroom with the door kicked shut behind them that they released each other. Stiles set the bottle of oil on the table next to the bed before sitting down. He stretched his legs out in front of him as he leaned back against his arms. Derek stalked in front of him, his eyes traveling down from Stiles’ face, across his chest, the line of hair below his navel and finally settling on the bulge in his pants.

Derek smiled curved upwards as he met Stiles’ eyes again. He slid his hands up Stiles’ thighs starting at his knees. There was a slight tremor in his hands as he inched closer to Stiles’ groin, his fingers spreading out. Stiles couldn’t look away from what was happening. Using his thumb, Derek popped open each button on Stiles’ pants. The relief was almost immediate. Stiles let out a rush of air as his erection was freed from the leather. Derek stroked him twice, painfully slow, up and down, up and down.

“Why are you still wearing pants?” Stiles asked, as he tried to thrust up into Derek’s hand but was held in place by Derek’s other hand.

“I’m a little busy,” Dere told him, squeezing once before leaning down to swipe his tongue along Stiles’ tip.

His entire body jerked at the warmth of that one movement, the feel of a tongue caressing him in that way.

“Oh,” Stiles gasped, a small laugh escaping him. “Then by all means....”

And then Derek was on his knees, licking up his shaft and taking him in his mouth completely. Stiles could feel his power trickling out, like it was seeping through his pores. He wrapped a leg around Derek’s back and thrust up into his mouth once, experimentally. Derek groaned around him before unbuttoning his own pants to slide his hand inside.

Stiles had never seen anything so perfect in his entire life. He leaned forward more, running his hands back through Derek’s hair.

“Come up here,” he whispered.

Derek pulled off of him slowly, rising to feet, his mouth wet and swollen. Stiles grabbed the waist of his pants and pulled them down as far as he could from where he was seated on the edge of the bed, not letting go until Derek stepped out of them.

From where he was sitting, Stiles kissed Derek’s hip before pulling back, breath skirting over Derek’s shaft before laying a kiss on the other side at the juncture between his leg and his body.

He ran his hands up Derek’s side, holding him there for a moment before he ran them down his backside, gripping him at the back of the thighs and pulling him down on top of him.

“This is where I want you,” Stiles told him as they slotted their bodies together.

When they kissed again it was different, quieter than before, just feeling each other, wrapped in each other’s presence. Derek shifted them up on the bed, wrapping an arm around the back of Stiles and dragging him up against his body as they moved. He let go of Stiles and reached for the bottle of oil that sat there. Stiles watched as Derek’s hand closed around the neck of it, popping the lid open with his thumb, those fingers that were about to be inside of him.

The first swipe was colder than he imagined it would be. The smooth movement of Derek’s middle finger leaving a line of shining oil between his cheeks. Making sure his hand was slicked up enough Derek pressed lightly against Stiles’ hole. It felt like nothing Stiles had ever experience before, exciting and terrifying him at the same time.

Derek sat back on his knees in between Stiles’ outstretched legs, his hand working slowly. Stiles’ breath was speeding up, he could see the rapid rise and fall of his chest. He felt amazing, groaning as Derek’s fingers moved inside of him, opening for him.

"How are you even real?" Derek asked, his voice awed.

Stiles looked down at him kneeling there between his legs, his slicked up hand stretching Stiles further and further. He looked at himself, naked and spread out for Derek, sweat covering his body. This didn't feel like real life. Real life was loneliness. _No_ , he told himself. That wasn't his life anymore. The past needed to be let go of for good.

"Kiss me," Stiles said, sliding his hand around the back of Derek's neck when he was close enough to pull him down the rest of the way.

Derek's hand left him as they kissed, Stiles could feel the emptiness immediately. Derek pulled back, reaching for the oil to add a little more to his hand. This time he began stroking himself, oiling himself up. "Fuck," Stiles breathed out, his heart pounding uncontrollably in his chest.

With the first press of Derek at his entrance Stiles' eyes went wide before forcing himself to relax.

"Let go," Derek whispered, his own body straining. "Trust me."

Stiles nodded, relaxing into Derek's touch. As Derek entered him inch by inch Stiles knew this was what he was meant for. For love, for intimacy, the truth in that balancing out the dark power of truth that he held within himself. "This is real," he said with a low quiet voice over and over again. "This is real." He didn't understand how he this was his life now, it wasn't anything like the one he had been raised to believe he would have.

Derek must have seen it in his face, the uncertainty, the sudden doubt, because in that moment he began speaking to Stiles, uttering words Stiles needed to hear.

“You’re not an abomination, Stiles,” Derek spoke quietly as he pushed in further. “You’re not. You never have been.” His voice was catching and breaking as he said these words.

“Derek,” Stiles cried out, hands gripping tightly onto Derek’s arms. Stiles absently thought there would be bruises there tomorrow where his hands seared into his skin there like the first day with Derek’s hand on his wrist, the first touch between them.

“You’re not an abomination,” Derek repeated, willing Stiles to believe it. “You’re mine.” He was pushed in as far as he could go, hips resting against Stiles, skin to skin.

Stiles wrapped his legs around Derek’s backside, holding him in place. Both of their eyes were wide as Stiles rolled his hips up with the feel of Derek thick inside him. Slowly Derek pulled out a little before pushing back in, thrusting up into Stiles, the tightness enveloping him. Stiles let his legs fall allowing Derek free reign to pull back so he was more up-right again before pushing all the way back into him.

It was slow, torturous to Stiles, but he knew his body needed to adjust. After a few more minutes Derek was shaking above him as he pulled out almost completely and slammed back in. Stiles cried out, his erection twitching in between them.

“Do that again right now,” he ordered. But this time he met Derek halfway, meeting him thrust for thrust.

No noise filled the air except the sound of their breaths and the slap of their skin. Derek was watching him with such rapt attention that Stiles felt even more naked than he already was. He smiled up at Derek leaning in for a kiss. Their tongues met before their mouths did, guiding them to each other. Derek stopped his movements long enough for Stiles to get the upper hand and roll them over.

Stiles was grateful that Derek had the forethought to grab Stiles’ ass to hold him in place so they didn’t come apart while moving. He relished the feel of being full of Derek while straddling him. Stiles spread his thighs apart until he was flush against Derek’s body again before he started rolling his hips. Derek’s hands stayed where they were, squeezing and guiding Stiles on top of him.

He arched backwards planting his hands on either side of Derek's legs as he rode him. The thrust from Derek's hips counteracting his own so they were always feeling the swell and release of their movements.

"Fuck, Stiles," Derek cried, his voice wrecked.

Stiles pitched forward until he was nearly laying on Derek's chest, their mouths meeting in a heated kiss. He snapped his hips forward at the same time Derek did the same and was rewarded with a low growl from Derek. His body tensed and he was coming inside of Stiles. The heat from it consumed him; the feel of Derek filling him up completely as his orgasm wracked through his body was overwhelming. Derek had bitten down onto Stiles' lip when he came and Stiles tasted a bit of blood there. It was all so much, too much. His own release was there, threatening to come out.

Derek wrapped a hand around Stiles and began stroking him in quick solid movements. Stiles lifted himself up onto his knees causing Derek to slip out of him. He whimpered wanting to still feel Derek there inside of him. Sensing what he wanted, Derek reached behind him and slipped two fingers into his hole, still wet and open. Stiles let his eyes flutter closed as Derek quirked his fingers and then he was coming. He felt everything release at once as his power and orgasm were torn from his body. His cry filled the room as Derek bracketed him atop of of him.

He blinked down at Derek when he felt him remove his fingers, come slipping out with them.

Everything felt new.

______________________

“I’m going to strike down, and I want you to counter it,” Derek told him as he raised his sword back.

Stiles nodded in understand before wiping the sweat from his brow. He readied himself, the weight of the sword he held felt foreign to him. As a boy Stiles was taught how to fight with a dagger, something small that would allow him to get close enough to touch someone while injuring them. That he could do, but the sword felt clumsy in his hands.

Derek swung at him, obviously moving at a slower speed to accommodate Stiles. Stiles hopped a little to the side, brought his own sword up and blocked Derek just like he had said.

“Good, again,” Derek said, taking a step back. “This time try and keep blocking it no matter where I strike from.”

They went on like this for two more hours and by the end of it Stiles thought he could probably defend himself if it came to it. Not against a master swordsman, of course, but if it came down to it, he felt confident he wouldn’t die.

“How do you know so much about this stuff?” Stiles asked once they sat down in the chairs outside, both breathing heavy from the exertion. 

“My parents taught me before they died. And Zedd always indulged me in honing my swordplay even though I had magic,” Derek answered him, shrugging like it was the most normal thing in the world.

“How old were you when your parents died?” Stiles asked, not having heard Derek speak about his family before.

“I was sixteen,” Derek said, pausing. “They died while Kate had me...or after I escaped. I’m not sure which. All I know is that when I was well enough to visit them after Zedd had found me, they were gone.”

Stiles put his hand over Derek’s. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” he said, turning his hand over to squeeze Stiles’ for a second. “It feels like a different life. I was so changed after I escaped, I don’t even think they’d recognize me”

“They’d recognize you,” Stiles told him, his voice sure and strong. “You were theirs; There’s no mistaking that.”

Derek leaned over to kiss Stiles lightly on the lips. “Thank you,” he whispered.

Stiles smiled at him before leaning his head against the back of the chair, staring up into the sky. “It’s getting late,” he said. “Is it almost time?”

“About a half hour I’d say,” Derek spoke, also looking up at where the sun was beginning to set.

“We should probably clean this stuff up before they get back,” Stiles said, looking at the swords and wooden shield they had laying about the yard.

“Why do they have all this stuff anyway?” Derek asked, picking up the one he had been using before moving to collect others.

“Because of Allison,” Stiles said. “They wanted to be prepared in case worse came to worse and they had to fight because of her rebellion.”

“It’s smart,” Derek said. “They probably have a dagger in there you can use since you’re more comfortable with them.”

“Oh I have one in my pack,” Stiles told him. “I just don’t normally keep it strapped to me.”

“You should,” Derek told him as they stowed away the weapons. “It’d be safer.”

Stiles shrugged. He could understand that, but if he was in real danger he could always just use his power against them. It had never come to that, of course, nobody ever bothered Stiles. He faded into the background just like he preferred. It was all just theory in his head. He had never even used his power on another human being. In the quiet safety of Scott’s house, the idea of using his power on someone made him sick, but out there, if someone was trying to kill him or someone he cared about he knew he could do it.

“I’d use my power for you,” Stiles said suddenly. “I wouldn’t even think twice about it.”

Derek looked at him wide-eyed. “And risk revealing yourself?”

“It’d be worth it to save you,” Stiles’ face was serious, hard. He was resolute.

Derek kissed him then, fisting his hands into Stiles’ shirt. Stiles held onto him and kissed him back, arms tight around his neck.

“I love you, Wizard,” Stiles whispered against his lips.

Derek’s breath shook against his. “I love you, Confessor.”

Stiles shuddered at being called that; the way it sounded coming out of Derek’s mouth made it feel like a caress against his entire body.

“Do we have just a little time?” Stiles asked, rocking his hips against Derek’s.

“No,” Derek chuckled, “I promised to remove the wards at sunset.” 

“We could be quick?” Stiles whispered as he slid a leg in between Derek’s.

Derek’s hands slid down Stiles’ back, coming to rest on the back of his thighs to pull him against his body. “No, we couldn’t.”

Stiles groaned, “You’re evil.” Derek laughed as he released him, turning him around and pushing them out to the living room.

The sun was just disappearing below the horizon when they walked out into the front yard. The air smelled sweet with the night air, but Stiles knew that some of that was because of the magic floating in the air. He could still kind of sense it buzzing around them. Derek was silent beside him, his eyes closed as he concentrated on removing the spell.

“I wonder if they’re out there,” Stiles said quietly, feeling exposed now that they were no longer hidden.

Derek tilted his head, listening to something in the distance. “I can’t tell. All we can do now is wait.”

Ten minutes later they could hear something moving fast through the brush. Both Stiles and Derek tensed ready for a fight.

“It’s us,” Scott yelled a moment before he broke into the clearing in front of the house. Behind Scott came Allison, her hair wild and her face red; a third person broke out of the woods behind Allison and both Derek and Stiles went back on alarm.

When all three were within the fence, wide-eyed and panting Allison immediately went up to Derek. “Put the wards back up. Now.” she ordered, her voice slightly panicked. “Do it.”

Stiles walked over to Scott while Derek replaced the protection around the house, his eyes trained on the man they brought with them. He knew it had to be Allison’s father but that didn’t mean he trusted him straight away.

“Are you okay?” Stiles asked, his hand on Scott’s shoulder.

Scott nodded. “We’re fine,” he took a deep breath. “I think we’re being tracked.” 

Stiles’ eyes scanned the treeline, passing again over Mr. Argent whose eyes were fixed on the point of contact between Stiles and Scott. Stiles didn’t see anything out there, but he knew better than to think there was nothing because of that. If something was hunting them it’d be able to hide.

“Done,” Derek said, lowering his hands as the spell settled over them. Stiles felt the same buzzing warmth as he experience the first time.

“Why don’t we head inside,” Allison spoke, running her hands back through her hair. “We can talk about everything in there.”

Everyone began moving inside except for Derek, who stood there stone-faced watching Allison’s father watch every movement Stiles made. Stiles moved to stand next to him, eyeing Mr. Argent as he walked inside.

“What are you thinking, Derek?” Stiles asked, their bodies hunched together for privacy.

Derek exhaled. “I don’t like the way he’s watching you. Plus he’s an Argent.”

Stiles understood, he really did. “I don’t think he’d hurt me,” Stiles said, keeping his voice hush. “I think he’s just curious.”

“Well I don’t like his curiosity, then,” Derek told him, his hand landing protectively on Stiles’ lower back.

“If he tries to hurt me you can kill him, how about that?” Stiles said, half joking.

Derek smiled at him. “Now you’re just trying to make me feel better.”

“You’re such a weirdo,” Stiles said as he walked into the house.

Stiles could hear Allison’s dad talking as they got closer to the kitchen. “...but you’re letting him touch you? Scott. I know you said he was your friend but can you really trust him not to use his touch on you? You know what the legends say about the Male’s lack of control.”

“I have plenty of control,” Stiles spoke from the doorway, his hand encased in Derek’s. “My mother trained me to keep it in check.” Stiles let go of Derek’s hand and slowly walked towards Mr. Argent. “I could feel my power a hair’s breadth away from leaving my body and still pull it back in time.” He was whispering; He knew he sounded threatening, but he didn’t have the best experience with strangers. Stiles had to make sure that if there was a problem, that he knew about it now.

“That’s exactly what I wanted to hear,” Mr. Argent said, looked to Allison for a minute before nodding. Slowly he walked towards Stiles and knelt on the floor in front of him, head bowed. “I’m Chris Argent. It’s an honor to meet the Male Confessor.”

Stiles looked down at where this man was kneeling before him, he had no idea what was going on. Scott and Allison didn’t looks surprised at all which confused Stiles even more. He heard Derek’s breath catch behind him as Chris’ head bowed.

“Thank you?” Stiles squeaked, unsure of what to do.

“I pledge my life to protect you,” Chris spoke, his head remaining bowed. “Whenever you call, I shall answer. Whenever the need arises. My life is yours now.”

“But I already have a wizard,” Stiles said, his mind still reeling from what was happening.

“I would never presume to take your wizard’s place. I simply wish to serve you however you see fit,” Chris looked up at him. “Do you accept?”

Stiles looked back at Derek; He seemed just as caught off guard by this as Stiles felt. But he also knew that he would need protection, and it would be helpful to have someone else out there who could give him shelter if he needed it, or fight alongside him if it came to that.

“I accept,” Stiles spoke clearly, bowing his head a little towards Chris. “Now please stand up, you’re making me nervous.”

Chris stood in one fluid movement. “Thank you,” he said before turning to Derek. “Wizard Hale, I’m sorry for the pain my daughter Katherine has caused you. Please know that I do not condone anything she has done in the past or continues to do. We should all live our lives by a certain code, she does not, and for that I am sorry.”

Derek extended his hand, the best peace offering he could give. Chris looked relieved at Derek’s willingness to accept his trust. Stiles never stopped looking at Chris, keeping an eye out for any movement that would tell if he was lying or not. He found nothing. Chris seemed earnest in his desire to protect Stiles. It wasn’t until Chris turned back to Allison and began speaking to her quietly that Stiles let himself relax. Derek was looking at him with this strange sort of wonder in his eyes, like he was proud of something Stiles had done.

“This is huge,” Derek whispered into Stiles’ ear. “Offering your life to protect a person whom you’ve never met; a man who you are taught from a young age is too dangerous to live. This is a good thing, Stiles.”

“I can’t believe you’re convincing me to trust an Argent,” Stiles whispered back, his voice as low as possible.

Derek shrugged. “Stranger things have happened,” he said as he wrapped his hand around Stiles’ hip and pulled him close. A reminder of their time together, the release of power, and the peace afterwards.

“We need to tell you everything that happened,” Allison finally said, breaking away from her father. “I’m not sure you’re going to like this, Stiles.”

“I kind of figured,” Stiles said, shrugging like it was no big deal. 

The five of them sat down at the kitchen table not knowing how to start. Obviously the news was bad. Allison had told them before they left that they wouldn’t tell her father anything about Stiles or Derek’s past unless news about him had already reached his ears, and Chris clearly knew a lot.

“Just start at the beginning,” Stiles prompted.

“Well,” Scott began. “First let’s just say that these wards really work. Not that I doubted you Derek, but as soon as they went up we could hardly even remember what the house looked like.”

“They’re a mixture of a few types of spells,” Derek said, not offering any more information than that about what was protecting them.

“No really,” Allison cut in. “On the way back we couldn’t even figure out if we were going in the right direction and then suddenly we remembered exactly where we needed to go. It was amazing.”

“How did you learn something like that?” Chris asked. “If you don’t mind me asking, that is.”

Derek shrugged. “It was something I learned from the one who taught me.”

“It had to be very powerful to mask somewhere with a confessor of Stiles’ power inside of its boundaries. The wizards of old used to use spells like that to hide in great times of peril; it’s very old magic, Derek,” Chris explained.

When it was clear that Derek wasn’t going to be sharing any more information about the combination of spells he used Allison continued to tell them about their journey.

They rode their horses as fast as possible to her father’s home. Nobody had stopped them on their way, and they hardly even paused to rest. But still, out of the corner of their eyes they felt like they were being watched somehow. The hairs on the backs of their necks standing up in warning. The two of them didn’t see a living soul until they strode up to the house and Chris was standing in the doorway with a bow and arrow cocked and ready.

“News from Kate had already reached me,” Chris interjected.

Stiles didn’t understand how news had moved that quickly.

“I have my own resources who keep track of her, cleaning up after her and trying to make things right,” Chris informed him. “They can get news to me fast.”

“Why not just have them kill her?” Derek asked, his face blank.

“If it was that easy I would have,” Chris said. “She’s killed twenty of my men over the years. None of them have been successful in taking her down.”

“She’s your daughter,” Stiles said, a note of sympathy in his voice. “It must be hard.”

Chris shook his head. “She’s a monster. She’s taken the honor of the Mord Sith and created something unnaturally cruel out of it.”

“An abomination,” Stiles whispered. Derek put his hand on Stiles’ knee under the table, comforting him. Stiles no longer saw himself as an abomination, but he understood that it must be hard to see someone you once loved transform into something like Kate. He felt bad for Chris.

Chris nodded. He understood. He explained how he had been surprised to see Scott and Allison there as he didn’t know the history they both held with Stiles. They told him about Stiles’ existence and that Derek was his wizard. Chris had been surprised a male confessor had someone he could trust with the knowledge of what he was, but when he learned what Kate had done to Derek in the past he realized how intertwined they had all become and knew he had to help. Once he knew everything they got ready and left at once.

“Wait,” Derek nearly yelled. “Does this mean that the people working for you know about Stiles? What if they tell somebody!?”

“I already took care of that,” Chris said with a grim face. “I had the three I trust implicitly kill the other ones who saw what happened the night Kate was here. The ones who know wouldn’t dare speak out.”

“They protected us on the way here,” Allison said. “When our horses got taken out by whatever was tracking us they fought them long enough to help us get away.”

“Boyd, Issac, and Erica will be here at midnight,” Chris cut in. “I gave them exact directions here so they would know they were in the right place even with the wards up.”

They fell silent; all of them contemplating everything they had learned in the past day. Stiles could hardly think straight with all the changes happening around them. Now four more people knew about him and what he was. But they didn’t seem to care, or want him dead, and that genuinely surprised him. He would never have thought this possible. Chris had pledged his life to protect Stiles moments after meeting him, there had to be more.

“How do you know so much about this stuff?” Stiles asked. “And why did you pledge yourself to my protection? You don’t even know me.”

“I’ve spent all my life studying the histories,” Chris began. “Confessors and their power have always held an interest for me. The tradition of killing the male born children was only started after a few had wreaked havoc across the land. It’s been centuries since one has made it past the day of its birth. And then we have you, raised in secret by your mother, I’m assuming the previous Mother Confessor?”

Stiles nodded, he had been born the child of the most powerful confessor of the time. “She died six years ago.”

“I remember, she was gone and her wizard retired, refusing to serve anybody else in the capital city,” Chris said, eyes glancing at Derek.

“And the pledge?” Stiles asked, his face feeling a little hot.

“I always believed that it would be possible for a male to live as a confessor if they were raised to know that their power was stronger than others, needed real control, that they would be something special,” Chris told him, his voice absolute in his beliefs. “Then word reached me what my party had seen, you entered the Con Dar and came back down with the help of your friends here. That wouldn’t have happened were you not special.”

Stiles felt a little embarrassed at being talked about this way.

“Then when Scott and Allison arrived and we talked I knew you were the one, a true Male Confessor who had complete control over himself,” Chris paused, “a blessing.”

Stiles shook his head. “I’m not a blessing.”

Derek took his hand before speaking, “Yes you are.”

Everyone else was nodding in agreement. Stiles felt his chest constrict; he truly never believed he’d ever meet one person who wished him alive, let alone the four who were now there with him.

Allison stood up, catching all their attention. “Why don’t we eat something? I’m starved and I think we could all use with a little food in our stomachs.”

Hours later Stiles was awoken by Derek getting up off of the couch, his head sliding from Derek’s shoulder. It was midnight, the rest of Chris’ team would be arriving any minute and Derek had to lower the guards.

“They’re here,” Chris called out, prompting Stiles to get up and follow everybody else outside.

The house was still masked so the visitors couldn’t see it or the five of them who just came out of it, but Stiles could see the three people who worked for Chris standing a few feet out from the small fence in the front of the house. Stiles wasn’t sure if he had ever seen three more threatening looking people in his entire life. He didn’t know which was Boyd or which was Isaac, but there was no mistaking Erica.

She was a Mord Sith. Dressed in the traditional skin tight red leather, arms and legs completely covered by it, her long blonde hair braided and pulled over her shoulder, a knife sheathed at her side held in place by a strap around her thigh, and her Agiel idling hanging from her hand made her look terrifying even though she was simply standing there.

Boyd and Isaac were on either side of her. One huge and imposing, holding a battle axe with a sword at his hip and two more strapped to his back, while the other was lean and fast looking, he he held a sword in his hand, had daggers strapped to his shins, and carried a bow and arrow on his back.

“Whoa,” Stiles breathed out as he saw them.

Chris smiled over at him, glad his team made such a powerful first impression.

“I’m going to say this before they can hear me,” Stiles began. “They are terrifying.”

“We can hear you,” Erica called out. “And thanks.”

Stiles looked to Derek who was concentrating on removing all of the spells; he didn’t know Derek had started already. They must lower in waves and not all at once because the three were still standing on the edge of the property.

“You’re welcome,” Stiles offered back, refusing to let himself feel too embarrassed.

It was visible on their faces when all the wards were completely gone, their eyes got wide as the house along with the five of them came into view.

“Cool trick,” Isaac said as they walked forward.

All of them immediately filed back inside the house, not wanting to be out in the open any more than they had to.

“You’re welcome to anything here,” Allison said, welcoming them into her home. They all nodded in appreciation. The three of them were standing behind Chris, their rank obvious from how they were standing, Erica just behind Chris to his right and the two other men standing equally behind her.

Allison moved to the kitchen to heat some water for coffee, while the rest remained in the living area by the warmth of the fire. Chris stepped to the side so he could see everybody before he began talking.

“This is Erica, Isaac, and Boyd,” Chris said, motioning to each one in turn. Stiles was glad to have a name to go with the faces now. They were all watching him like they knew exactly who he was already. He suddenly remembered they had been there before when Kate was here and that they were fully aware of who and what he was. They had seen it in the flesh.

“That’s Scott, Derek, and Stiles,” Chris finished, pointing to each one of them.

“Why don’t you guys sit down, you must be exhausted,” Scott said, motioning towards the chairs closest to the fire.

They each paused in front of Stiles on their way to sit down, bowing their heads as they went. “Confessor,” they all said, like they were greeting royalty.

“Thank you for allowing us to come here,” Boyd said, setting the giant axe he held against his leg.

“It’s no problem at all,” Allison said, walking back into the room holding a tray full of coffee cups. Once they all had their drinks they situated themselves so they could sit all sit down. Derek sat on the floor besides the fireplace, enough room next to him for Stiles to squeeze in beside him. Stiles handed Derek his cup so he could sit down without worrying about spilling it when Isaac hopped up from his chair.

“Here, take my seat!” he said, moving out of the way.

Stiles froze, “That’s okay,” he said slowly.

“Please,” Isaac said. “I wouldn’t feel right if I was seated in this chair and The Confessor was on the floor.”

Stiles shook his head. “And I wouldn’t feel right if the person who protected my friends and had just arrived from a journey was sitting on the floor instead of a comfortable chair when I have been here safely for days. Please, sit.”

Stiles sat down next to Derek to reinforce his decision. He took his drink back from him as he pressed to Derek’s side. Isaac hesitated before finally sitting back down.

“Please don’t treat me any differently than you would anybody else,” Stiles told them once they were all settled. The three of them glanced to Chris before nodding. Stiles got the distinct feeling they were just humoring him.

When Stiles looked at Derek he saw his gaze fixed on the Agiel that was dangling from a small gold chain around Erica’s wrist. Stiles shifted his gaze to Allison who also saw it, they shared a look before Stiles slid his hand into Derek’s, intertwining their fingers.

“Don’t check out on me now,” Stiles whispered, bumping him with his elbow.

Derek finally looked at him and then down at their hands, surprise evident on his face like he didn’t remember Stiles holding his hand at all. “I’m here,” Derek mumbled, squeezing Stiles’ hand in return.

“What happened out there?” Scott asked, perched on the edge of one of the chairs. “Do you know what got our horses?”

“Gars,” Boyd spoke.

They all sat up a little bit straighter. There hadn’t been a Gar around the country for longer than any of them were alive. They were beasts as big as men, covered hair, who aggressively hunted down their prey.

“How many?” Chris asked.

“Three,” Boyd said, “We killed them though.”

“Was that it then? What was tracking you?” Stiles asked, afraid of what the answer would be.

“Nope,” Erica said, hand closing around her Agiel. “We’re being tracked by Mord-Sith, at least three, no more than six. Kate’s among them.”

“Are they...?” Stiles began before changing his mind. “Should we put the wards back up?”

They shook their heads. “They’ll be an entire day behind us. We made sure to slow them down,” she said, a smile curling her lips. “I killed her wolf.”

“So they’ll be here tomorrow,” Derek said, it wasn’t a question.

Erica nodded. “Yes.”

“Right,” Stiles said, standing up. “Right. Scott, Allison, if you want me and Derek to leave we will, I don’t want anything to happen to your home. Chris, it’s up to you whether you help us out of this. I know you pledged your allegiance but it’s still your decision.”

They were all just sitting there staring at him as he spoke, his voice strong as it carried through the room.

“Why don’t we all try and go to sleep, and then in the morning we can make some real decisions?” he finished, holding his hand out for Derek to take. Derek slid his hand into Stiles’ and pulled himself standing.

“I’m in this with him no matter what. Do whatever you deem fit for your own souls,” Derek added before leaving the room with Stiles.

Stiles could hear them talking quietly as he closed the door to the room he and Derek had been sharing. He sat on the bed, quiet and thinking, as Derek stripped down for bed. It could all end tomorrow. All of them could be dead in the next twenty-four hours which suddenly made time such a real tangible thing to Stiles for the first time in his entire life.

“Hey,” Derek spoke, squatting in front of him. “There’s nothing you can do now.”

Stiles nodded, his hand cupping Derek’s face. Derek smiled and leaned into his hand before placing a kiss on his palm. He began unlacing Stiles’ boots, tugging them both off. Derek stood and continued to undress Stiles. No intent behind any of it, just comfort.

They crawled into bed, wrapped up in each other and the blanket and fell asleep. Stiles awoke as the sun began to rise. He still felt exhausted, but knew it was more from the stress than anything else. Derek was beginning to stir beside him, burying his face further into Stiles’ neck to avoid the sunlight.  
Stiles was going to miss this if things went badly today.

“If we die today,” Stiles whispered. “I’ll be glad I found you first.”

He didn’t think Derek was awake enough yet to be conscious of what he was saying, but he still needed to say it. “Thank you,” Stiles said, breathing out, running his hand up through the hair on the back of Derek’s head.

Derek tightened an arm around him, kissing his neck. “We’re not going to die,” he said.

So he was awake.

“You don’t know that,” Stiles said. “You can’t know that.”

“You don’t know either,” Derek said, raising his head to looks at Stiles.

“I like how you look when you first wake up,” Stiles said, his arm wrapped around Derek’s shoulders.

Derek looked amused by the abrupt change of subject for a split second before he didn’t care anymore and went with it. “Are you trying to distract me?” he asked, rolling on top of Stiles.

“Maybe,” Stiles said, pausing to kiss him. “Or maybe I’m just trying to get as much of you as I can in case this is the last time we get to do this. You’re it for me, Derek, there’ll never be anyone else”

His face was serious as he looked up at Derek. The sky was still grey outside with only a hint of gold burning along the edges, they still had plenty of time if it would only slow down for Stiles.

They kissed like it was the first time, slow and searching, trying to memorize everything about each other’s touches. Stiles focused in on the way Derek’s stubble rubbed along his face as they kissed, the way his hands would tighten and release along his body, seemingly unconsciously. He focused on the way Derek’s breath would catch and release if Stiles moved a certain way or touched a secret spot. He let everything about Derek wash over him, consume him all over again.

And when Derek’s knee nudged Stiles’ legs apart he focused on the way it felt to wrap his own legs around Derek’s hips and hold him against his body. The weight pressing down was solid and real. He slid his erection in between Stiles’ cheeks, rubbing along the curve. Stiles gasped silently at the sensation before rocking back against him.

They weren’t kissing anymore, no, they were just looking at each other. Their eyes were roaming over each other’s bodies, arms, collarbones, necks, and their eyes would catch again, bright and happy before searching some more.

Derek pulled him hard against his body as he spread his legs out further, practically sitting back on his knees before taking Stiles in his hand. Stiles couldn’t believe how beautiful Derek looked like this, their lower bodies tangled together, real sunlight starting to stream onto the bed. Derek stroked him as Stiles alternated between thrusting up into his hand and grinding down along his cock that was still nestled beneath him.

Suddenly Stiles could feel his power itching for release as he felt his orgasm building.

“I love you, Derek,” Stiles said, as their movements turned frantic.

“Stiles, I...,” Derek began but then they were both coming, bodies tense against each other.

Derek slumped forward against Stiles’ chest, kissing him there. “I love you,” he whispered.

Stiles ran his hands back through Derek’s hair as he let his legs fall from where they were tightly wrapped around him. They laid like that until the sun was above the horizon and they heard movement within the house.

“What do you think is going to happen?” Stiles asked as they dressed.

“They’re all staying with us,” Derek told him, like it was the obvious truth of the situation.

Stiles felt surprised that Derek was so sure about this. “Why do you think that? I mean, Scott and Allison have a life here, a home....”

“They love you Stiles,” Derek interrupted. “ You know she knew what you were from the start. All this time she’s known and hasn’t done anything to harm you. And Scott’s your best friend. Just trust me on this.” Derek paused for a second while rolling up his sleeves, “They’re not going anywhere.”

Of course Derek was right. Scott sitting in the kitchen sharpening a dagger when they came out of the bedroom.

“Are you sure?” Stiles asked, not bothering with any preamble.

Scott rolled his eyes. “You’re family. We’re sticking by you through the end, whatever that end may be.”

“Family,” Stiles said, feeling the word roll off his tongue. He’d never had a family before.

“Where’s everybody else at?” Derek asked, sitting down next to Scott at the table.

“Allison, Chris, and Boyd are asleep still; Erica and Isaac are looking around the perimeter,” Scott said, moving onto the next blade.

“Is there anything I can do?” Stiles asked, standing there in the kitchen feeling lost, like he should be preparing for something he just didn’t know what.

“Learn how to sword fight,” Scott said, smiling up at him. “I know you don’t know how.”

Stiles scoffed. “I’ll have you know I’m quite the mediocre swordsman!”

Scott raised an eyebrow at him, laughing at his choice of descriptor. 

“Derek showed me some moves yesterday,” Stiles admitted. “I could probably not die if someone came after me with a sword now.”

“Not dying,” Scott repeated after him. “That’s always a plus.”

“He wasn’t terrible,” Derek said, trying to keep the smile off his face. “I think mediocre describes him pretty well.”

Stiles punched him in the shoulder. “I hate you both.”

They were laughing when Erica and Isaac ran into the house. It was still a little surprising to see Erica in her bright red leather.

“They’re going to be here in a few hours,” Isaac told them, trying to catch his breath. “They’re moving faster than we expected, I don’t know how.”

“What direction are they coming from?” Chris asked, pulling on his shirt as he walked into the room.

“West,” Erica told him. “Three hours at most.”

Chris nodded. “Good. That gives us enough time to come up with a plan and to arm ourselves.”

“Remember what I said,” Stiles spoke up. “You don’t have to stay here.”

“We’re not abandoning you now,” Chris said. “You’re too special not to protect.”

Stiles didn’t know what to say to that; Chris took his silence as agreement and kept talking. He told Scott to go wake Allison and for Isaac to go get Boyd up. They were going to eat, prepare, and then when the time was right, strike out into the woods and defend themselves.

It was decided that they would break into three groups, Stiles, Derek, Erica, and Chris would be in the center, with Scott and Isaac, and then Allison and Boyd flanking them on either side. Scott had wanted to be paired with Allison, he was worried if something happened he wouldn’t be there to save her. But they had all understood that if they distributed power and experience throughout the group, these pairings were the most effective.

“Don’t worry,” Boyd said while they were strapping on all their weapons. “I won’t let anything get your girl.”

Scott was about to speak again when Allison walked into the room, everyone freezing in stunned silence. She had put on her old Mord-Sith outfit. Her hair was in a sleek braid, the end of it curling over her shoulder and falling onto the red leather that encased her. She was gripping her own Agiel tight in her hand, no sign of the pain it was causing her on her face.

“I can take care of myself,” she said, her eyes ready for a fight.

When Stiles could finally look away he saw Derek, sort of wide-eyed and in awe, a smile curling his lips.

“What?” Stiles asked, wanting to know what was so amusing.

“They’re going to hate that,” Derek said, full on smiling now.

Allison smiled at him and Stiles could see it in her face that she knew they would too. She had left their ranks, and here she was dressing like them once again to fight against them. They would hate it. Erica was nodding her approval from the corner.

“I think they’re traveling with a couple wizards,” Isaac said from where he was perched on the edge of a chair in the main room. “I hope you remember how to use their power against them, Allison.”

“I haven’t forgotten anything,” Allison told him.

Stiles strapped his dagger to his thigh, and a second one Scott had given him to his opposite ankle. He wouldn’t use a sword, he was quick enough he decided to fight with his dagger alone. Derek hadn’t like it, but it wasn’t his decision.

“We should get into position,” Chris said once everyone was ready. “Remember, Kate will show no mercy on you, and neither will whoever she has brought along. They won’t hesitate to kill us all to get to Stiles. They don’t understand the meaning of mercy, so show them none.”

A mile out into the woods, far enough away from the house and the town, the fanned out and waited. Stiles could feel his heart hammering in his chest. He was about to fight for his place in this world. It was a small insignificant place, but it was his own. Derek reached over and squeezed his hand, sensing his anxiety.

“Together,” he whispered.

Stiles nodded, squaring his shoulders. Chris and Erica were on either side of them. Stiles couldn’t see the others, but he knew they were out there. As if on cue the sound of blade-on-blade cut through the forest. It was coming from Isaac’s direction. Suddenly there was a man standing a few feet in front of them, appearing out of nowhere.

“Hello Derek,” he said, the air around him crackling with magic. “I haven’t seen you since Kate was pulling you around by a leash.”

“Danny,” Derek grit out, his own fingers flexing with magic. He was resisting using it though, he couldn’t know who was around, didn’t want to risk someone taking control of it. Danny didn’t have that fear though, he didn’t know about the Mord-Sith on their side. He sent forth a burst of power, like a rope whipping out towards Stiles, but it never reached its target. Erica rolled in front of them, taking the power for herself. Danny’s eyes went wide as Erica sent it back ten-fold, the audible sound of his spine cracking as he crumbled to the forest floor.

“The others won’t be that stupid,” Chris said. “They knew that would happen, they wanted to distract us.”

“I didn’t think we were that transparent,” a voice sounded from behind them.

When they turned around there were four people standing behind them. Stiles only recognized Kate, but there were two other Mord-Sith with her, one with long strawberry-blonde hair and another with more maroon hair, she was older and held a family resemblance with both Kate and Allison. Stiles recognized the one, it was Lydia Martin, she was known as being a ruthless tactician. The third was a man, he looked around Stiles’ age, but had lighter hair and bright blue eyes. They all looked dangerous.

“Take her,” the older one said, and in a flash the man had an arrow cocked and sent it firing at Erica. She screamed as it made contact with her shoulder, pulling her to the ground.

Derek pulled his sword, the sound of it ringing out as he stepped in front of Stiles. Chris began moving towards them but before he could get any closer he was knocked to the ground by an invisible barrier Stiles could feel come up between them. It was the man, he must be a wizard, Stiles realized. There were nobody around to control his magic with Erica struggling to sit up with the arrow through her, and Derek didn’t dare use his against the three of them.

Stiles felt it horseshoe around both he and Derek, cutting them off from the rest.

“I won’t let you take him,” Derek yelled.

“Don’t worry, we’re taking you too. You’re my pet until I say you’re done being mine,” Kate smiled at him. “Two for the price of one.”

Stiles’ mind was doing a hundred things at once. He could visualize all the scenarios playing out. They wanted them alive, to break them both, show them off as prizes. Suddenly he knew what he had to do, knew what would distract them enough to put a crack in the shield constructed around them.

“I hate to break it to you,” Stiles said, stepping out from behind Derek. “But he’s never going to be yours.”

Derek met his eyes for a second before Stiles put his hand on him and released his power. It came out of him like a shockwave, he prayed Derek would go along with him, realize what he was doing. As if it was the plan all along Derek immediately dropped to his knees, his face looking open and wanting to please.

Kate screamed, anger clouding her face. She glared at the wizard with her. “Jackson you were supposed to separate them from each other as well you worthless thing,” she punctuated it with a slap of her Agiel against his back.

It was exactly what Stiles wanted, the pain was enough for Jackson’s concentration to falter and his ward to weaken. Stiles heard an arrow shoot by his head a second before he saw it make contact with Jackson’s chest.

But Kate didn’t take her eyes off Stiles, not caring what was going on around her. She didn’t bat an eye as the rest of them burst in from the side and began attacking the other two Mord-Sith. Scott was kneeling beside Erica, his ankle obviously broken from the angle his foot was resting at. Isaac swinging his sword, blocking the quick movements of the older Mord-Sith’s Agiel. She was using it as a sword, it was almost mesmerizing to see. Chris was swinging from the other side, she would be dead soon, Stiles didn’t need to witness it to know the truth of it.

“He was ours!” Kate seethed, stalking towards them. “He was mine!”

Stiles let her get close, keeping her eyes on her though he could hear the fight raging around them as Derek kneeled silently beside him, still playing the part. Stiles slid his dagger out of its holster.

“What do you think, Derek? Were you hers?” Stiles asked, keeping his voice calm, Kate was only a couple feet away.

“I’m nobody’s,” Derek said, gripping his sword and thrusting it up so the butt of it jammed into Kate’s stomach.

Her eyes shot back and forth between them as Derek stood, a snarl on his lips as he looked at her. “How...?” she asked, as Stiles ducked and spun around her, bringing his dagger up and slashing along her back, ripping the leather there, a line of blood coming through.

Derek brought his sword up, blocking Kate’s blow as she tried to strike him with her Agiel. She kicked back, her boot connecting with Stiles’ knee. He stumbled to the side and could finally see what was going on with the rest of them.

Boyd was down, blood pouring out of his side as Lydia stood above him the hand she held her Agiel covered in blood. Allison seemed to come out of nowhere, her Agiel flicking to Lydia’s neck and taking her to the ground as Chris came up from the other side and killed her. It all happened in seconds.

He heard Derek grunt from beside him, low and in pain.

Stiles saw the blow a little too late but the aftermath was right there in front of him. Derek tumbled back, cradling his wrist as his sword dropped, the contact there from Kate’s Agiel shattering the bones and bruising the skin immediately. The pain was enough of a surprise to make Derek lose his concentration momentarily, Stiles could see it in his eyes, the way they went out of focus for a second before becoming sharp again. But it was too late for him to react properly and he couldn’t use magic against her, Kate flipped the Agiel in her hand readying to jam it up under Derek’s chin.

It took three steps to get there. Stiles slid his hand around the back of Kate’s neck, squeezed, and released his power into her. He had never used it like this before, but in that moment he knew it was the only way to save Derek, to save himself.

Kate froze before turning slowly and dropping to her knees in front of Stiles.

“Master!” she cried out, tears in her eyes. “What do you ask of me?” Her face was open like a child’s, innocent and waiting for instruction.

“Don’t move,” Stiles said before stepping around her to crouch down next to Derek. He was staring up at Stiles with wide-eyes, breathing hard from the pain and adrenaline. Stiles gingerly lifted Derek’s arm to look at his swelling wrist. “I’m sorry I didn’t get here sooner,” Stiles said.

Derek shook his head. “You did great,” he said, his eyes then drifting to Kate’s back, the red leather ripped from Stiles’ slashes. “What are you going to do with her?” Derek asked.

“Anything you want me to,” Stiles answered truthfully.

“I want her to die,” Derek said without missing a beat. “I don’t care how, but I want her gone.”

Stiles nodded, reaching down to hold Derek’s uninjured hand. Their fingers held onto each other as he too turned to look at Kate. He saw Allison standing off to the side, her own Agiel held tightly within her hand. Chris and Scott coming up behind her, bloody but alive. 

“Kate,” he spoke, his voice rough.

“Yes, Master?” she said eagerly, her body still frozen in the kneeling position Stiles left her in.

“Die,” Stiles said. “Now.”

He wasn’t sure exactly what he expected, but in that moment she crumpled, like a puppet that someone had cut the strings on. He could feel Derek squeezing his hand as they stood up on shaking legs.

“What now?” Stiles asked, looking around him.

__________________________

_What now_ , ended up being the part of a battle nobody talks about.

There was blood and dead bodies, Agiels nobody wanted to touch, and injuries on their side. Derek did what he could for Boyd, stitching his insides together just enough so he’d live. They pulled the arrow out of Erica’s shoulder and packed the wound so she would stop bleeding. Scott let Derek heal him just enough to ease some of the pain, he didn’t want Derek to use all his strength on others when his own wrist was shattered.

There was an elderly man sitting at the gate of the house when they got back.

“What the...?” Derek said to himself, speeding up. Stiles looked at him and moved to keep pace. He wasn’t going to let Derek out of his reach again.

“Hello Zedd,” Chris said, his voice unsurprised.

“Zedd?” Stiles whispered to Derek. “As in your teacher?”

“The very one,” Zedd answered him, their eyes meeting. There was a softness in his eyes that he’d never seen from anyone before except his father. It felt like someone looking at him who had been waiting his whole life to see him.

“Do you know me?” Stiles asked, stopping in his tracks.

Zedd shook his head. “No,” he spoke. “But I knew your mother and kept her secret from the world as long as I could.”

Stiles blinked at him. “Her secret?” he asked, already knowing the answer, but wanting to hear it out loud.

“You.”

“You were her...,” Stiles trailed off, suddenly feeling sick to his stomach. This was his mother’s wizard. The only one who had known about Stiles’ existence, he was supposed to protect the Confessor in his charge, but Stiles’ mom had ended up dead. What had happened back then that he was unable to save her? Stiles’ gaze shifted to Derek, his brows scrunched with concern. And Zedd was Derek’s teacher, plus Chris knew him. It was all too much. Everything was too much.

Stiles’ vision was tunneling; he looked at Derek again, his face was clouded with worry still, his eye brows creased together. Stiles laughed, “We should have hidden in a wayward pine, nobody ever would’ve found us,” he said, his voice distant and slurred, before darkness took him.

He didn’t know how much time had passed when he finally began to regain consciousness. The room was dark and quiet. It took him a minute to realize he was in bed. He rolled over coming face to face with a sleeping Derek, still fully clothed above the covers. Stiles pulled his arm out from underneath the blanket and held Derek’s hand, the warmth and comfort he felt there lulling him back to sleep.

When he woke up again it was to hushed whispers.

“Yes,” Derek was saying. “He used his power two times within the span of minutes.”

“And he was fine? It was effective?” the other man said, Stiles couldn’t figure out who that was.

“It worked. I saw it with my own eyes,” Derek said, sitting down onto the end of the bed. Stiles could tell he was trying to be as quiet as possible.

“He’s more powerful than I thought. What are you going to do?” the man asked. Stiles suddenly realized it was Zedd speaking.

Derek shrugged, “We haven’t talked about it; he needed rest.”

“You know he’s awake, right?” Zedd said, his voice lifting.

Derek laughed a little, Stiles could feel the shake of the bed from it. “Yes I do.”

Stiles finally opened his eyes, taking in the brightness of the room and the two men at the foot of the bed. “Morning,” Stiles said, not even attempting to act innocent. Derek squeezed his foot through the blanket before getting up to grab him a glass of water from the kitchen.

Zedd watched him go before turning back to Stiles. “Your mother would be proud to know you found your wizard,” Zedd spoke softly. “That’s all she ever wanted for you.”

Stiles nodded past the lump in his throat.

“What will you do now?” Zedd asked.

Derek walked back in with the water then; Stiles had never been so glad to see him. In truth Stiles didn’t know what to do. He knew there were a few options, and which one he knew he should take, but that didn’t make things any easier. Stiles drank down half the glass before speaking.

“My heart says Aydindril,” Stiles said, going for broke, getting it out there in the open so he didn’t have to keep it inside any longer.

The bed dipped beside him where Derek sat down.

“How did I know you were going to say that?” Derek asked, his voice close to joking, but his face was serious.

Stiles took his hand and spoke to both of them.

“I could run forever, killing anyone who figures out what I am. But news would spread if it hasn’t already. We don’t know who Kate or the others told. We could leave the country altogether, but the past would catch up no matter what,” Stiles saw Chris lean against the doorframe behind Zedd, listening in.

“No,” Stiles continued, “If we go to Aydindril, meet them head on, I think it will give me,” he paused, looking at Derek, “us, the best chance possible for survival.”

“May we accompany you?” Chris asked, he stood there peeling an apple like they weren’t making life-altering decisions and Stiles wasn’t still laying under the blankets of his bed.

“I’d be honored,” Stiles answered him, feeling an allegiance between them formed from battle.

Chris nodded once before leaving the room, undoubtedly going to speak to the others.

“You’ll be the most protected Confessor in the land at this rate,” Zedd told him, before he too turned to leave.

Stiles sat up completely, crossing his legs, and leaning forward to rest his head on Derek’s shoulder. Derek brought his free hand up, running it up Stiles’ back before coming to rest on the back of his neck.

“Do you think I’m doing the right thing?” Stiles asked, whispering his fears.

He felt Derek nod. “I do.”

“And you’re with me?” Stiles asked, raising his head to look Derek in the eye. He saw nothing but love there, devotion.

“Until the very end,” Derek said, bringing their mouths together.

______________________

It took two months to reach Aydindril. Scott and Allison had stayed behind at their homestead. Stiles knew that was the life they wanted. The rest followed Stiles and Derek into the wilderness, trekking across mountains and plains to reach the city. It wasn’t easy, but then nothing ever was.

Stiles felt stronger than ever before. He smiled at Derek as they reached the edge of the forest, Aydindril before him. His eyes fell onto the barely visible bite mark below the collar of his shirt, a mark of them belonging to one another. 

That night, months before when Derek wrapped himself around Stiles and begged for him to look at him, their connection was made. Formed and seeping into each other right there in the dead of night. They were created in the flames of the Con Dar. Stiles never told Derek how the Con Dar, all that power coursing through him, had felt like fire consuming him. He knew Derek would understand, but he never talked about it. He kept that to himself. For the first time in his life he was thankful for the small flame that still burned right under his skin, no longer keeping it shut and bolted behind a door in his mind. It had brought them together.

Stiles thought about his mother. She taught him not to touch, not to feel, to move apart form the world, travel parallel to it. Derek cut across that line. He crashed through it and had carved out a piece all for himself, intersecting their parallel lines.

It was an anomaly, but then so were they.


End file.
